


Tick of the Clock

by hexuba



Category: Midnight Poppy Land
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 65
Words: 107,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexuba/pseuds/hexuba
Summary: When she moved to the big city, Poppy never imagined that she would find herself caught between rival gangs. But more than that, she never imagined that she would find herself caught between two friends.
Relationships: Quincey/Poppy, Tora/Poppy
Comments: 577
Kudos: 513





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I haven't written anything in a long time (so please be kind), but I just couldn't help myself after stumbling across Midnight Poppy Land. I am very new to the fandom, meaning I didn't get a chance to read the original MPL, so I'm building from sparse details at this point and just filling in the gaps with my own imagination. Accordingly, I may be way off with some of the characterization, and I obviously have no idea what direction the story is going in, so this is technically an AU...? Please feel free to fill me in on story elements that I may have missed/totally botched. Thank you so much for reading!

**_Don't you see it's wrong, can't you get it right?_**

**_Out of mind and out of sight_ **

_Anya Marina, "Satellite Heart"_

One

Tora couldn’t understand it, despite the fact that he had known Quincey all his life. How could he be so detached from reality, so distant from the people he talked to every day? Quincey lived in a bubble, Tora knew that, but the bubble was getting denser all the time, lined with oblivion and gold.

“What am I supposed to do?” Poppy sat like a wilted flower on the ornate sofa, her small shoulders hunched. “I can’t lose this job.”

Quincey reclined in an equally opulent chair across from her, his own shoulders spread wide and relaxed. His legs were crossed, his arms splayed indifferently around him, as if he were reading the newspaper or watching some clouds drift by. Tora, who stood rigid beside him, had the urge to smack his friend across his smug face.

“Poppy, sweetheart,” Quincey nearly crooned. “We’ll figure this out. It’s just a little job – “

“A little job?!” For the first time in the discussion, Poppy’s temper flared, her cheeks blazing a brilliant red that Tora wanted to reach out and touch with his fingertips. She was so many earthly shades at once – milky skin and rosy anger.

“A little job?!” She repeated. “This is my life, Quincey! How will I eat? How will I pay my rent?”

“There are other jobs, darling,” Quincey offered, but Poppy only frowned and balled her hands into tiny fists. 

“That’s not the point, Quincey! Giant Goldfish is the only place that’s felt like home since I moved to this stupid city. I care about it and I care about the people who work there!” Tora could see her rage crumbling, her huge eyes going glassy. It wasn’t like him to show softness, especially around a constant pain-in-the-ass like Quincey, but Poppy broke something in him every time she was near. He didn’t like seeing her this way, but he also didn’t know what to do. He clenched his jaw tighter and tighter until his head ached.

“And I love that about you, Poppy,” Quincey dropped the remark casually, his tone too light. “You always see the best in things, wherever you go. I wish I could do that. It’s so _quaint_.” Tora knew that Quincey’s condescending tone was clueless more than malicious, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“Listen, Poppy,” Quincey continued when he realized that she was struck speechless by his utter uselessness. “You don’t even know that this company, Big Barracuda – “

“Giant Goldfish,” she corrected.

“Right, Giant Goldfish. You don’t even know that this company is going to be shut down yet. You’re going off of a rumor you heard on the street, which is just silly. It wasn’t even on social media!” Poppy darted her eyes to Tora for help.

“Quincey,” Tora began, but his friend cut him off with a manicured hand.

“No, no, I’m serious, you two. Don’t gang up on me like this.” Quincey looked back and forth between his bodyguard and his pseudo-girlfriend. “Getting yourself worked up over nothing is bad for your health, not to mention your skin.”

The room fell silent. Outside the city buzzed and hummed, evening crawling over the light. The last dregs of sun shot through the blinds to illuminate all of the glittery gold accents that Quincey insisted on surrounding himself with. The only things that seemed out of place in such a lavish setting were Tora and Poppy, neither of them shiny enough to keep Quincey’s attention for very long. Ever since Poppy had burst into the room, warbling something about a gang threatening to shut down Giant Goldfish, Quincey had let the tension slide over him like a wave. Like all problems, this one rolled past Quincey and instead hit Tora right in the chest, his heart tugging with every one of Poppy’s sniffles.

“This is pointless,” Poppy finally said, her voice soft and deflated. “I don’t know why I came here.” Tora noticed Quincey tense almost imperceptibly. He was a vain man, one who didn’t like to be labeled as pointless.

“Poppy,” Quincey finally sat forward as he spoke, his knees brushing against Poppy’s. He reached to take her hand but she kept both firmly pressed against her stomach. Her eyes, always so pure, were almost defiant.

“Poppy,” he said again, settling for placing one big palm on her knee. Tora felt a sudden urge to break every single one of his friend’s fingers. “We don’t know anything yet. I know you aren’t used to being around these types of people,” Quincey vaguely gestured towards Tora, who met the reference with a scowl. “But please believe me when I say that gang members are as gossipy as old women. I doubt the person you heard talking was even in a gang. There are a lot of wannabes.” He said the last bit with pride, squaring his boastful shoulders. Poppy remained unimpressed.

“And what if you’re wrong?” Poppy wondered. Quincey’s eyes narrowed as he drew his hand away from her knee.

“Then we’ll figure something out,” he finally said. “I promise I will help you and your friends.”

* * *

The conversation had died abruptly after that, Tora sensing that Poppy didn’t believe Quincey – she just simply didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Despite Quincey’s insistence that she stay and have dinner, Poppy threw several paltry excuses at the two of them before finally agreeing to at least let one of Quincey’s men drive her home. Tora would have walked her home himself had his friend not now been stuck in his own pity party, sipping a stiff drink as he studied his skin in a magnifying mirror.

“Pointless?” Quincey echoed the word. “Do you think I’m pointless, Tora?”

Tora sat on the arm of the sofa with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, the smoke drifting up around his face. Of course he thought Quincey was pointless, not to mention conceited and spoiled. But he didn’t say any of that. Instead he shrugged and offered his indifference as a small bid at sparing his friend’s delicate feelings.

“She didn’t say you were pointless,” Tora corrected him. “She said coming here was pointless.”

“That’s the same damn thing!” Quincey pouted. “I like the girl, I really do, Tora, but women can be so needy. Like she can’t find another job? Like her _friends_ can’t find other jobs? Hell I’ll give them jobs!” Tora pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Never mind that Quincey hadn’t worked a day in his life and had no job to offer anyone except for killing people for a living. Tora tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but having your heart in the right place made no difference when your worldview was so utterly warped.

“I should send her something,” Quincey said after a while, his eyes brightening. “Something pretty. Do you think she’d like some jewelry?”

“Do I what?” Tora answered, his eyes wide. “Do I think she’d like some jewelry? No, I don’t think she wants some fucking jewelry. I think she wants to know that she has a job and a place to live and friends who aren’t being hunted down by a fucking rival gang.”

The two men stared at each other. Tora was never shy about holding his tongue, especially around Quincey. They had insulted and berated each other since they were kids, each learning to live with one another’s character flaws. But this was different. Tora wasn’t poking fun over hapless shenanigans – he was openly scolding Quincey, and neither one quite knew what to do with that information.

“Tora,” Quincey finally said, the coldness in his eyes dissipating into a small smile. “Don’t be such a Neanderthal. Women _love_ jewelry.” 

* * *

“You can just drop me off here,” Poppy told the large, stoic man who had been tasked with driving her home. It was dark and the streets were glowing neon with restaurant signs and people laughing with their friends. For maybe the first time since moving to the city, Poppy didn’t think going home would make her feel any safer than being out on the street. If anything, she wanted to be surrounded by happy faces, even if none of them were meant for her.

“Miss,” the driver said, “I don’t think – “

She put up a hand to stop him from saying the rest. She didn’t care whether Quincey would want her to stay in the car or not. She needed to make some decision, _any_ decision, for herself. The driver reluctantly pulled to the side of the road and let her out, staying by the curb until she disappeared around a corner. _Good_ , Poppy thought, _I’m sick of being watched_. She had noticed men following her in black cars for days now, always keeping their distance but never attempting to conceal what they were doing. She knew that they were Quincey’s men, and that he had probably asked them to follow Poppy in order to keep her safe. But the constant surveillance only served to heighten her growing paranoia. She knew the city could be a dangerous place, but she had never felt that danger firsthand. Not until she met Tora.

Her chest tightened when she thought of Tora. The big brute had stood motionless for most of the time she was at Quincey’s, the veins in his neck occasionally straining when she dared to look at him. She wanted to be mad at him, too, for doing nothing, for being as useless as Quincey had been in all of this. But she couldn’t be, not when she had seen the sadness that lingered in his eyes. They were warm like honey, tinged with the smallest bit of sympathy, and she had felt something stir in her when they glanced at each other over Quincey’s head. _He cares_ , she thought. _He hears what I’m saying_.

“Oh stop it, Poppy!” she blurted out at herself, startling an elderly couple who were strolling nearby. She waved an apology and sunk her head down into her sweater, trying to hide. She couldn’t let herself think of Tora that way, especially when Quincey was the one that she was supposed to be interested in. After all, Quincey was like all of the boys in all of the stories she had read as a girl. Handsome, charming, rich. And Tora? Tora was savage…and primal…and strong…and his hands were so large, large enough to perfectly cup…

“Ugh!” Poppy cried. She had to turn her brain off. Between thinking about Giant Goldfish and two especially unhelpful big dummies, Poppy’s mental capacity had been shot for the day. She let the smells of the night air pull her towards a crowded food stall, where a fire warmed her skin and dried the last of her tears. She smiled at the man pouring thick noodles and broth into a large bowl and he smiled warmly back, calming her nerves as he handed her the food and sent her on her way. She ate as she walked, slurping and dripping juice down her chest. She was too tired and too hungry to care.

After a few long hours of wandering, Poppy found herself back in front of her apartment building. It seemed so cold and empty, like an animal with no heart. As had become her habit, she searched the empty sidewalks around her before going inside. A black SUV sat on the far corner of the street, its tinted windows revealing nothing.

The lightbulbs popped and glowed as Poppy entered her apartment and flicked on the lights. Everything was just as she had left it, although she didn’t know why she would be expecting something different. There were still dirty dishes in the sink, and her giant stuffed Totoro on the couch, and the plants that she had forgotten to water…

…and an ornate box, cherry red, in the middle of the cluttered coffee table. Poppy stood dull and staring, her heart roaring like a small fire in her chest. It was a jewelry box. Someone had been in her apartment and they had left her a jewelry box. A bright fissure of panic opened in her throat and she glanced around frantically, half expecting a masked figure to attack her from some darkened corner. But there was no one. There was only the box, and as Poppy approached and saw the elegant writing dashed on the envelope on top, her worry subsided. The paper felt heavy and expensive in her hands as she opened the letter.

_Poppy,_

_I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I hope this gift from my personal collection will bring you joy whenever you wear it._

_Quincey_

Poppy didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. She picked the box up cautiously, half expecting it to bite her, the hinge opening with a small squeak. Tucked inside was a single diamond earring in the shape of a cross, practically glowing against the dark velvet. Poppy picked up the earring and held it between her fingers as she turned it in the light, watching the jewel’s innards fracture into thousands of tiny rainbows. It was the most stupidly beautiful gift that anyone had ever given her.

With a heavy sigh Poppy tucked the earring back into the box and closed the lid, turning to go into her bedroom when something else caught her eye. It was a crumpled brown paper bag, folded and placed under the jewelry box. The word “Kid” was written across the top, the penmanship wild and sharp. Poppy picked up the bag, the paper softened by use, and unfurled it, reaching her hand inside to find what felt like a brick. She pulled the object out slowly and nearly dropped the bag when she saw the stack of $100 bills wrapped tightly and precisely with a rubber band, a note stuck to the front written in that same hand. The words were sparse and sweet.

_Let me know when you need more._


	2. Two

**_Tell me we both matter, don't we?_ **

_Kate Bush, "Running Up That Hill"_

Two

The next morning Tora was waiting outside of Poppy’s apartment, leaning indifferently against an expensive yellow car, his signature cigarette dangling lazily from his mouth. His amber eyes were soft but empty, giving nothing away. Poppy stopped walking at the sight of him, so tall and aloof. She couldn’t tell if she was happy to see him or not. 

“What...what are you doing here?” she asked in a near whisper. 

“Thought I’d walk you to work,” he answered without looking at her, pretending to be suddenly fascinated by a nearby tree. 

“Why?” she asked, glancing towards the spot where the black SUV had been parked the night before. It was gone. 

“Quincey may not take threats seriously,” Tora said, finally meeting her eyes, “but I do.” Poppy willed herself not to look away, not to forget how to speak or move like she always seemed to whenever Tora’s gaze was so direct. Sometimes Poppy thought she had Tora figured out and then sometimes, like now, she couldn’t understand what motivated him to do the things he did. _Why is he here_ , she wondered to herself, _if Quincey didn’t order him to come?_

“You don’t have to walk me to work, Tora,” she insisted as she rummaged through her bag. She looked up to see his expression unchanged. “I mean, I always like the company, but I don’t think I’m in danger. Not since Quincey ordered his men to start following me.” 

“You think Quincey ordered his men to start following you?” Tora asked with a huff of amusement. Poppy found what she had been searching for in her bag and slowly pulled it out, her brow furrowing in confusion. 

“Of course he did,” she answered confidently. “These black cars have been tailing me for days. It’s actually getting kind of annoying.” Tora drew the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it to the ground, stubbing it out under his big boot. His chest bulged as he crossed his arms. 

“Kid, I hate to break it to you, but Quincey doesn’t think that far ahead.” The two stared at each for a moment and Poppy wondered when Tora had moved so close to her, looming over her so that she had to crane her neck to look him in the face. He always seemed to shift towards her, slowly and slyly, as if he were trying to cover her like a cloth. 

“Then who...” Poppy didn’t need to finish asking the question. She found her answer in the sudden stiffness in Tora’s shoulders and the way his eyes bore into hers. He looked away first in what she thought might be embarrassment, his jaw firm. She stifled the urge to reach out and touch his cheek, to draw his eyes back to hers. Her stomach churned with more than just butterflies. 

“Anyway,” she continued after a long moment, somehow regaining her composure. “I’m glad you’re here. I want to give this back to you.” She held the brick of cash out to Tora. He didn’t need to know that she had kept his accompanying note, tucking it safely in her nightstand drawer. 

“Jesus, Pops,” he said when he saw the money, trying to push it back towards her. His hand over hers was a warm shock. “You can’t just pull that out of your bag in public.” She looked up and down the empty street, a small smile crawling over her lips. 

“Tora, there’s no one around but us.” She had to admit that she liked seeing him flustered, especially when she was the one who caused it. There was something so delicious about making such a big man squirm. “And besides, I can’t take this from you.” 

“First of all, there is always someone around. Remember that.” Poppy gulped at the sudden seriousness in Tora’s tone. “And secondly, you _can_ take that from me. It’s nothing.” 

“It’s not nothing!” she protested, shoving the money back in his direction. “It’s $10,000! You can’t give me $10,000, Tora! Where did you get $10,000? I can’t believe I’m even saying $10,000!” 

“Whoa, kid,” he answered, putting out his hands to calm her. He wanted to reach for another cigarette but stopped himself when he remembered where he was. “Slow down. I’m not taking that money back.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Yes, you are!” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Tora!” 

“Yes?” For the first time that morning, Tora’s posture relaxed, a smug smirk pulling at his mouth. Poppy’s cheeks glowed a fierce pink, paler than her anger but just as beautiful. Her own posture changed, too, into something like defeat. 

“Why did you give me this?” Her eyes were huge and sincere. Tora felt his throat go dry. 

“Just in case,” he said. 

“In case of what?” she asked. 

“In case something happens with your job,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet. 

Poppy searched his face for a long moment, the air between them thick like cotton. The morning was gloomy and dull, the sky the same grey as the buildings that surrounded them. Car horns honked from a nearby street, the general din of the city rising up and around their two still bodies. Without thinking, Poppy reached for one of Tora’s hands that he had shoved in his pockets, drawing it out to hold between her own. His palm was warm and soft, his expression unreadable as he stared at her in a daze. 

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing lightly. He instinctively squeezed back, running his thumb across hers. Poppy felt a jolt in her spine, one that radiated from her neck down the entire length of her back. She wanted to stand there forever, safe beneath his unwavering gaze. 

It never occurred to her that someone else might be watching her, too. 


	3. Three

**_We come from the land of the ice and snow,_ **

**_From the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow_ **

_Led Zeppelin, "Immigrant Song"_

Three

Goro would never be mistaken for handsome, even by his own mother. He was solid and tall, with a thick neck constantly ringed in gold chains and sweat. His full beard concealed much of his pockmarked skin but nothing could hide the scar above his right eye that distorted the lid, rendering his expression constantly wary. What skin wasn’t savaged and marked was decorated with a smattering of crude tattoos, trailing from his cheeks down to his calves. A toothpick permanently hung from his thin lips.

“She’s cute,” he said flatly to his brother Jiro. The two were equally matched in height but Jiro was narrower and pale, his face almost sculptural in its gauntness. He wore his long hair in a single braid down his back, his heavily tattooed arms and neck always partially hidden by a handsome suit.

“Should we keep her?” Goro asked with a thin smile. His brother met the look with an open scowl.

“Do you always think with your cock?” Jiro spat, snatching a glossy photo from his brother’s hands.

“Every chance I get,” Goro answered as he made to swipe the photo back. Jiro stopped him with a firm arm to the chest.

“Are you that fucking stupid, or do I need to remind you what happened last time you stole from the boss?” Jiro looked pointedly at Goro’s thick red scar. It seemed almost fresh in his brother’s ugly face. Goro had the good sense to look ashamed, but only for a moment, his mouth splitting into a wide smile.

“Worth it,” Goro said triumphantly as he seized the photo again. “Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

“Well keep it in your pants this time,” Jiro warned. “You’re not screwing me out of my money again.”

Goro could have made another comment about his brother’s choice of words, but instead he stared at the picture in his hands, running his thumbs along the crisp edges. The girl in the photo was short and sweet, her round face punctuated by two large brown eyes and a perfect rosebud of a mouth. Her oversized sweater did a poor job of camouflaging the slithering curves of her chest and hips, her figure a plump hourglass.

It was Poppy.

“I don’t know, Jiro,” Goro choked out, working himself up. “Those tits…”

Jiro grabbed the photo for the last time and crumbled it into a ball, tossing it across the filthy apartment that Goro called home. In the same motion, he wrapped one large hand around his brother’s bulbous throat, shoving him against the nearest wall with a thud. Goro began to fight until he saw the look in Jiro’s eyes.

“I swear to God, Goro,” Jiro nearly spat. “If you fuck this up for me, I will disembowel you and feed you your own goddamn organs. _Do you understand_?” Goro hesitated a moment too long for his brother’s liking, earning him another shove. Jiro’s grip tightened until Goro’s eyes began to water and he finally nodded. Jiro released his brother with a huff, letting him drop to the floor in a fit of coughs.

“Jesus Christ, Jiro,” Goro rasped. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“I’m no more a psycho than you are an idiot.”

Goro stared at his brother for a long moment, watching as the older sibling casually lit a cigarette. He rubbed his throat as he stood, half angry, half scared. He wanted to tackle Jiro to the ground, to pin him like he used to when they were boys. But Jiro was someone different now; he was _something_ different now, and the little brother knew that his brute strength was no match for Jiro’s violence. 

“Listen, Goro,” Jiro said as he ran a disapproving finger over the dusty kitchen counter. “This guy wants to make us rich, all for keeping an eye on some piece of ass. No muscle, no interference.”

Goro pouted as he shook out his shoulders, knowing that his brother was right. They had worked dozens of jobs together, all of them fraught with the sort of danger that was only fun when they were young and impervious to their own limits. Tailing some girl was the easiest gig of their lives and Goro knew that they both desperately needed the money, despite his brother’s impeccable appearance.

“Just do what I tell you to do,” Jiro said through a veil of smoke. “Once this guy gets whatever the fuck he’s looking for, you can buy as much pussy as you want.”


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me that there might be some overlap with characters so I wanted to clarify: the men in the black cars who are keeping an eye on Poppy are Quincey's men, although Tora was the one to despatch them. Goro and Jiro are NOT Quincey's men but are instead watching Poppy on behalf of someone else (who has yet to be identified). I hope that came across but I'm sorry for the confusion if it didn't.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

_**Elevator straight into my skull** _

_**The escalator rises as it falls** _

_**I swear our jet is crashing in my mind** _

_**You can hold on but I wouldn't waste your time** _

_The Kills, "Black Balloon"_

Four

Poppy felt listless at work, her usual cheerfulness replaced with a nagging worry. Erdene and Jacob flittered around the office at their usual pace, throwing occasional glances of concern in her direction. Erdene sensed Poppy’s sour mood from the moment she arrived that morning and had tried to soothe her friend with gentle touches and sage bits of advice.

“Poppy, you look awful,” she said upon seeing the dark circles under Poppy’s eyes. “Are you taking care of yourself? Are you drinking enough water? You know how important that is!”

Poppy loved Erdene more than anyone in the city, but she couldn’t stomach the look in her friend’s beautiful eyes, not today. She always wondered if Erdene viewed her as a sort of pity project, trying her best to fix her up with makeup and gym memberships. Poppy knew that her flawless friend only wanted her to be the very best version of herself, but she felt inadequate and dull beside a goddess like Erdene.

“Probably not,” Poppy answered. “I haven’t been sleeping well, either.” Erdene arched one perfect eyebrow.

“You know what always helps me sleep better?” Erdene asked, eliciting a groan from Jacob in the corner.

“Don’t say it, Dene,” Jacob warned, but the word had already left Erdene’s mouth.

“Sex.” She said matter-of-factly. “Sex always helps me sleep better.” Poppy rolled her eyes and tucked herself behind her desk.

“Well that’s great for you, Erdene,” Poppy breathed. “But sex is the furthest thing from my mind right now.”

Of course that wasn’t the truth. Poppy had caught her mind drifting off for several days now, always in the direction of Tora. She knew it was partly because he made her feel safe, something that seemed increasingly rare in this frightening place. But she also didn’t have the energy to talk herself out of the fact that she felt simultaneously stronger and weaker in his presence, buoyed by his own strength but dizzied by the very sight of him.

Erdene had the good sense to let the subject drop when she saw the slump in her friend’s shoulders. Ordinarily she would have asked Poppy to go out for a drink, or maybe even go shopping if only as a temporary distraction, but Erdene knew that something was different today, something that Poppy was trying to confront on her own.

“Well I’m here if you need anything,” Erdene said with a gentle smile. She waited until Poppy smiled back before retreating to her desk, a perpetual skip still present in her step.

How could Poppy tell Erdene and Jacob what she had heard just a few days before? Quincey was right – it was probably nothing. The two short, fat men had looked the part, heavily tattooed and walking in the direction of Ares Street, but that didn’t mean that they were truly part of some bloodthirsty gang. And besides, what would they want with a business like Giant Goldfish?

“They want the operation shut down,” Poppy had heard one of them say as she stepped out of the stationary shop, nearly colliding with his solid chest. “Watch where you’re goin,” he’d spat at her, his partner snickering. She’d sidestepped them with a quick apology, her face glowing with embarrassment, and made a quick attempt to walk away until she caught a small bit of the conversation, stalling her on the sidewalk.

“Giant Goldfish,” one of them said. The hairs danced on the back of Poppy’s neck. “Whoever they are, they know too much.”

“Shut ‘em down completely?” one asked.

“ _Completely_ ,” said the other.

Poppy had been unable to hear anything else after that, and she may have been naïve, but she knew better than to follow the two men, especially when they were striding so intently towards Ares Street. _Giant Goldfish?_ she’d wondered. _My Giant Goldfish? What does this mean? What do those men want from us? Are Erdene and Jacob in danger? Am_ I _in danger?_ At the time she’d thought that Quincey, with his dashing persona and endless resources, would be the only person to help, and so she had gone to him at his lavish apartment. She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the indifference that he provided, let alone a sparkly piece of jewelry that sat unworn on her kitchen table. And what about the stack of cash that Tora had given her? Could that help save her and her friends?

Poppy slumped lower in her chair, willing the day to end, when she felt her bag vibrate. She took out her phone to see the name Quincey dancing on the screen. She hesitated before answering, her finger hovering. Quincey had been so glaringly unhelpful the last time she saw him, but she still felt herself drawn to him, if only to give him the benefit of the doubt. He had always been a gentleman, after all, and had tried to show kindness in his own unique way.

“Poppy?” he chirped when she finally picked up. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” she said after a moment.

“Are you OK? I hadn’t heard from you and I was starting to get worried.” His tone was light; it didn’t match his words.

“I’m fine,” she answered. “I just needed to be alone to do some thinking.” In that moment it dawned on Poppy that Quincey probably didn’t know about the money that Tora had given her.

“About the Big Barracuda thing?”

“ _Giant Goldfish_ ,” she said through gritted teeth. Quincey chuckled.

“I know, Pops. I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh,” Poppy squeaked out, alarmed at her own sudden anger. She had been so tense, so paranoid, that she didn’t even realize how she was acting. She felt like a cornered animal with her hackles raised.

“Thank you for the gift,” she finally said, her voice softer. “I don’t know where I’ll ever wear it, but it’s beautiful. You didn’t have to give it to me.”

“I know I didn’t have to give it you,” Quincey said, the smile evident in his voice. “I _wanted_ to give it to you.” 

“Well thank you,” Poppy answered. “I’ll keep it somewhere safe.”

“Why don’t you wear it tonight?” Quincey asked. Nerves began to ball in Poppy’s throat and chest, her cheeks growing hot. Talking to Quincey felt like talking to royalty. He was unlike any man she had ever met. But then again, so was Tora.

“Tonight?” she wondered.

“I thought I’d take you out to dinner,” Quincey replied. “Somewhere nice. Somewhere beautiful that will take your mind off of everything.”

“OK,” Poppy answered without thinking, a small smile playing across her lips. “It’s a date.”

Erdene’s ears perked up from across the room.

“Did I just hear the word _date_?”


	5. Five

**_You can do no wrong, in my eyes_ **

_Thom Yorke, "Hearing Damage"_

Five

“Erdene, you can’t be serious!”

“I’m completely serious, Pops. You look _gorgeous!”_

The two girls stood before the full length mirror in Poppy’s bedroom, both appraising her reflection. She was clad in a snug purple dress, the neck dipping low to reveal her pale, full breasts. On statuesque Erdene, the dress was loose and cool, the V showcasing the tattoo that decorated her narrow chest. But on Poppy’s ample curves, the dress became something more, transforming her from bookworm to sex pot, a role she didn’t know how to play. 

“I can’t go out in a dress like this, Erdene,” Poppy protested, turning to view herself from different angles. “You can see everything!”

“Girl, that’s the point!” Erdene replied, grabbing Poppy’s shoulders to hold her still. “Look at you. I don’t think you understand just how stunning you are.”

“I don’t think stunning is the word I would use,” Poppy said as she twisted free.

Poppy had felt uncomfortable since the moment Erdene had finished zipping her into the garment, her mind firmly made up that this wasn’t the outfit she’d be wearing for her dinner with Quincey. But as Poppy looked herself over again, she tried to take Erdene’s words to heart. After all, why would Erdene lie? She just wanted Poppy to be happy, and Poppy knew she wasn’t horrible looking, that particular shade of purple shimmering against her fair skin. Wearing her long hair down helped to cover some of the cleavage, and she thought her hips looked almost cute, like two halves of a heart. And maybe Quincey wouldn’t notice; maybe he would be distracted by the smoky eye that Erdene had done, or the earring he had given her, mismatched with a golden stud.

“OK fine,” Poppy said in defeat. “But I’m wearing a sweater!” She made for her closet, Erdene throwing herself down on the bed in triumph.

“Fair enough!” Erdene answered. “Just leave it unbuttoned.” Poppy rolled her eyes as she shrugged on a black cardigan, pulling it tight over her chest.

Erdene had perched anxiously at Poppy’s desk after overhearing her plans for a date, her eyes wide and bright like a kid on Christmas morning. She practically bounced up and down when Poppy hung up the phone, asking an endless barrage of questions. _Who was that? Where are you going? What are you going to wear?_ Erdene had barely given Poppy a chance to answer before dragging the both of them out the door, throwing Jacob a rushed explanation about “serving the greater good.” That’s how the girls had ended up first at Erdene’s, rummaging through her chic closet, and then at Poppy’s, where Quincey was sending a car to pick her up.

“This guy is sending a car!” Erdene said again as she laid on the bed, staring dreamily at the ceiling. “ _I’ve_ never even had anyone send a car for me. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this Quincey fella sooner!” She sat up on her elbows, eying Poppy who was busy fussing with a few stray hairs around her face.

“There’s not a lot to tell,” Poppy insisted for what felt like the millionth time. “We met through a friend and just kind of…hit it off.”

“Right, this friend Toro?” Erdene asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Tor _a_ ,” Poppy said with a laugh. Her stomach churned as she said his name, still unsure of how she had gotten to this point in her life, let alone in this conversation. She had never meant to tell Erdene about Tora, partly because he was still a mystery to her, as well. Quincey insisted that he was the heir to a large fortune built by stocks and trade, and naturally every man of his status required a bodyguard like Tora. But Poppy knew there was more to the two men; something devious, some darker, something that both terrified and excited her. Erdene had simply been persistent enough to penetrate the wall that Poppy had built around her secret. 

“Well whatever you did,” Erdene said after a long pause, “keep doing it. This guy is clearly into you, not to mention loaded.” Poppy made to throw a pillow at her teasing friend when a loud knock came at the front door. Both girls shot straight up, Erdene bounding from the bed and dashing towards the living room.

“That must be your ride!” Erdene called, Poppy chasing after her.

“Erdene! Let me get the door!” But Poppy had underestimated her lanky friend’s speed. She ran out of her bedroom to see her front door opened wide, Erdene standing stunned and silent beside it.

Tora stood in the doorway, filling up the frame.

“You’re…” Erdene stammered, looking Tora up and down. “You’re the driver?” Tora’s expression was blank.

“Erdene,” Poppy started as she came up behind her friend, finally seeing Tora in all his suited glory. He looked handsome and polished, but his suit jacket couldn’t hide the swell of his shoulders or the tattoo spread across his neck. He was a savage in disguise, making Poppy’s mouth go dry.

“Erdene,” Poppy tried again, “this is Tora.”

“ _This_ is Tora?” Erdene was incredulous, gawking at Tora as if he were the moon, full and bright. Poppy had never seen her glamorous friend at a loss for words, something like jealousy tingling in her fingers. Of course Erdene would find Tora attractive, and of course Tora would find Erdene attractive. That’s how these things always seemed to go.

But when Poppy turned towards Tora, she found his eyes trained firmly on her, his look as unreadable as the day Poppy had absentmindedly reached out to tuck a strand of loose hair behind his ear. Her throat clenched as he searched her face, his eyes darting quickly up and down her body. He opened his mouth as if to speak but quickly closed it again. A grin crept across Erdene’s face as she watched the two frozen figures before her, each waiting for the other to talk.

“ _This is Tora_ ,” Erdene said again, this time as a statement. “Nice to meet you, Tora. I’m Erdene.” She stuck out one elegant long hand, Tora staring at it for a moment before giving it a shake. He jammed his hands into his pockets, suddenly awkward and hunched.

“I’m here to take you to dinner,” Tora said to Poppy. Erdene let out a breathy laugh.

“I bet you are,” Erdene said with a smug smile, her eyes dancing back and forth between Tora’s indifferent expression and Poppy’s embarrassed one. Poppy narrowed her eyes at her friend, her venomous look only serving to heighten Erdene’s glee.

“I mean, I’m here to take you to Quincey,” Tora amended. Poppy fidgeted with the hem of her cardigan, making to button it up when Erdene caught her hand and placed a glittery clutch in it.

“Please, don’t let me keep you two,” Erdene said as she gently shoved Poppy in Tora’s direction. “I know you have a big night ahead.” Poppy shot her friend one more warning glare before turning to leave, Erdene waving coyly.

“Nice to meet you, Tora! _Have fun, Poppy_!” Poppy could have throttled her friend for being so cheeky, her eyes cutting towards Tora to gauge his reaction. His face was impassive except for the bit of color across his cheeks. _Is he…blushing?_ Poppy wondered, her own face growing hot. She pulled her cardigan closed, suddenly regretting her decision to wear Erdene’s dress.

A sky blue sports car was parked on the curb, the rims a brilliant silver that reflected the streetlamps. Tora tugged at the high collar of his shirt as he walked around to the driver’s side, leaving Poppy to get her own door. He clearly wasn’t used to being a chauffeur. The car’s interior was as ostentatious as the outside, the seats a buttery leather that felt cool against Poppy’s legs. She clicked on her seatbelt as she looked around, her eyes wide. Tora caught sight of her expression and let out a little chuckle.

“I’ve never been in a car like this!” Poppy swooned, running her hands over the dashboard, all of her self-consciousness momentarily replaced by awe.

“I can tell,” Tora said with a smirk. He reached for a cigarette but stopped himself, revving up the engine instead.

“Look at all of these buttons!” She marveled at the console outfitted with a glowing touchscreen and shiny stereo. “How do you even remember what these all do?”

“I don’t,” Tora confessed as he pulled away from the curb. “This is one of Quincey’s cars, so I guess you could say I’m not really used to it.” Quincey’s name snapped Poppy back to reality. Nerves boiled in her stomach as she sat back in her deep seat. The city whizzed by in a dizzying array of lights and signs, the buildings like giants with unblinking yellow eyes. She hadn’t been on a date in a long time, and she certainly hadn’t ever been on a date with someone like Quincey. She didn’t have a single clue about what to expect.

“Your friend’s interesting,” Tora said after a few minutes, his eyes fixed on the road. Poppy turned to study him. _Interesting?_

“Yeah, Erdene’s beautiful,” Poppy said with a little frown, her palms growing sweaty. Tora glanced in her direction

“That’s not what I meant,” he answered, one big hand clutching the steering wheel. “She just seems to have a lot of… _energy_.” Poppy laughed, imagining her friend hopping around Giant Goldfish as she juggled her work.

“She does,” Poppy admitted, a hint of admiration in her tone. It was true that she found herself feeling jealous of Erdene sometimes, but more often than not, Erdene was like the encouraging older sister that Poppy never had. She cringed when she realized that she hadn’t thanked Erdene for all of her help. Tora cleared his throat, knocking her from her trance.

“Hey,” she said, a thought suddenly striking her. “Why did Quincey send you to pick me up?”

“Disappointed?” Tora asked, one eyebrow playfully arched.

“No!” She answered too quickly. “I just figured he would want you to stay close to him. I mean, doesn’t he have other people who can drive?”

“He does,” Tora said. “I was actually kind of surprised that he asked me to do it, too. He knows what a shitty driver I am.” Tora sped up as if to prove his point, the scene outside the windows melting into a blur.

“Shitty driver?” Poppy asked with a laugh. “So you’re saying there’s only a 50% chance that I’ll even make it to this date?”

“Mm, I’d say more like 40%.” The two smiled at each other, the tension in the air evaporating. Tora was usually impossible to decipher, his façade tough and unbreakable. But Poppy had seen glimmers of his impish side, of the way his eyes twinkled with mischief when he teased her. She knew that there was a warm person beneath the surface, Tora’s outer layer only trying to protect him from something she couldn’t quite understand. She chalked his demeanor up to his job as a bodyguard; constant vigilance could have that effect on a person.

“Ooh, what are you listening to?” Poppy asked as she found the stereo’s volume knob.

“I wouldn’t do that…” Tora started, but Poppy had already cranked up the heavy metal he had been blaring, the car filling with the clang of aggressive drums and guitars. A dark, devilish voice droned over the din.

“Oh!” Poppy yanked back her hand as if it had been shocked. Tora quickly pressed the stereo’s power button and the car fell silent again.

“It’s just something I listen to when I need to get, um, pumped up.”

“Pumped up?” Poppy tried to contain her giggle. 

“Yeah, it’s, um, it’s this or gangster rap.” Poppy swore that she heard embarrassment in Tora’s voice, her heart softening towards him.

“I don’t know,” she said after a moment. “It’s kind of…catchy.” Poppy powered the stereo back on, turning the volume down until the song was just a whisper. Tora’s lips quirked at the edges, the two sitting in an easy silence as the music quietly screamed. _Maybe I need to get pumped up, too_ , Poppy thought.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bloodshed

**_You want me?_ **

**_Fuckin' well come and find me._ **

**_I'll be waiting,_ **

**_With a gun and a pack of sandwiches._ **

_Radiohead, "Talk Show Host"_

Six

Tora pulled the car into a quiet, exclusive neighborhood and stopped outside a nondescript building, gold pillars decorating either side of the door. Two men in dark suits stood before the pillars, their large hands clutched in front of them. They stared blankly at the car, a knot forming in Poppy’s throat. An ocean of nerves swayed in her stomach.

“This is it,” Tora said softly as he tried to read Poppy’s face. His own stomach turned at the sight of her sitting so small and anxious in the seat beside him. He was tempted to start up the engine and drive away; to take her somewhere private where he could erase the apprehension and fear he saw in her eyes. _Jesus Christ_ , he thought to himself. _Get your shit together, Tora._

“This is it,” Poppy repeated, reaching for the door. One of the big men approached the car and grabbed the handle before she could, opening the door out onto the curb without a word. Poppy smiled shyly at him in thanks, pressing her knees together as she stepped out. Tora appeared beside her on the sidewalk like a phantom, his hand absently hovering near the small of her back to guide her inside. He caught himself before he could touch her, balling his fingers into a tight fist.

Tora and Poppy walked through a huge set of carved wooden doors into a dark and quiet restaurant, the empty tables adorned with rich linens and elaborate place settings. Candle flames danced off the polished silverware, the light absorbed by the deep burgundy of the walls. Quincey sat alone in a booth near the back, his head casually resting against the mirrored wall behind him. A small elderly man quietly played the piano in the opposite corner, the place otherwise deserted.

“Poppy!” Quincey perked up when he saw her, standing from the table to walk over to where she stood. He looked dapper in his pale suit jacket, the collar of his patterned shirt opened to reveal his toned throat and chest. His cologne swarmed Poppy’s senses and she almost coughed.

“You look…” he started as he came near, appraising her slowly. “You look incredible.” He took her small hand in his and a bolt of electricity shot up Poppy’s spine. His eyes sparkled when he met hers.

“So do you,” she said. The two stood staring at each other for a long moment until Tora cleared his throat.

“Oh, Tora,” Quincey said absently. “Thanks for getting her to me in one piece! I knew you could do it.” Quincey patted Tora on his broad shoulder and smiled at his bodyguard’s scowl before turning back to Poppy. “Shall we?” he asked with a flourish.

Tora gritted his teeth as he noticed that Quincey had no problem touching Poppy, his large hand pressed firmly against her back as he guided her towards their table. Tora stiffened before retreating to the door, leaning against it as he lit a cigarette. He tried his best to look nonchalant, but his eyes kept creeping back over to where Quincey and Poppy sat. He could only hear bits and pieces of their conversation over the piano.

“Quincey, this is amazing!” Poppy said as she made to sit down. Quincey stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Here, let me take your sweater,” he began.

“Oh, no, that’s really…” Poppy started in a panic, but he had already slipped the long sleeves off of her arms, hanging the garment on a nearby coatrack.

“Wow,” Quincey said as he looked her over again with quiet adoration, his warm palm resting on her naked arm. Poppy bit her lip and met his eyes, willing herself not to cross her arms over her chest. She had seen lascivious looks from men before, ones meant to pick apart and degrade her. But Quincey’s eyes were soft and sweet, his gaze more transfixed on her face than anything else. A tiny bit of tension left her body.

“Please,” he said as he gestured towards the table. Poppy scooted into the booth and Quincey followed, the fabric of his pants whispering against her leg. He left his knee pressed against hers.

“Quincey, this is amazing,” Poppy said again, openly gawking. “How did you do this?”

“I know the owner,” Quincey said lightly, draping an arm over her seat. “And trust me, this guy owes me more favors than I can count. I just told him I needed a beautiful space for a beautiful date and he did the rest.” Poppy blushed.

“That’s sweet, Quincey. But the _whole restaurant_? No one’s ever done something like this for me before!” Poppy ran her fingers across the heavy fork and knife on the table, sure that they cost more than her rent.

“Well get used to it,” Quincey said as he tucked a piece of Poppy’s hair behind her ear, revealing the earring he had given her. “You deserve to be treated like this.” The air stilled, a few sparse notes wafting over from the piano. The two stared at each other, Poppy’s throat swelling, waiting for Quincey to dip his head and kiss her. Instead he spoke as he idly toyed with his gift.

“Poppy, I wanted to apologize,” his face turned stoic. “I was being a complete asshole the other day. You were worried and I didn’t take you seriously. I’m truly sorry.”

“Oh, Quincey, you don’t have to…” Poppy said.

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “Giant Goldfish is important to you. I just didn’t realize how important. And the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about the things that you do.” Poppy had never had such a direct and intimate conversation with a man, her eyes growing in surprise.

“Well, thank you,” she said with a smile. “That means a lot to me.”

“And you mean a lot to me,” he answered. “So you’ll be happy to know that I did a little digging, and it looks like you have nothing to worry about.”

“A little digging?” Poppy’s heart pounded. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve got friends everywhere, Pops,” Quincey said with a shrug. “And let’s just say that those two thugs you heard talking won’t be a problem to you or Giant Goldfish anymore.” Poppy’s brow furrowed.

“Wait, what did you…” Poppy’s question hung in the air unfinished, a slender man in a tuxedo approaching the table with a menu in his hand.

“Master Balthuman,” the man said to Quincey with a slight bow. “Miss.” Poppy stared, utterly puzzled by the formality. _Quincey is even more important than I thought_ , she said to herself. _But something doesn’t feel right about all of this._

She listened quietly as Quincey ordered a bottle of champagne for the two of them, followed by a complex round of hors d’oeuvres and dishes that she couldn’t even begin to pronounce. Ordinarily she would have balked at someone else making the food decisions for her, but Poppy felt entirely out of her element, as if she had landed on some alien planet. Quincey’s words played over and over again in her head, setting her on edge. _You have nothing to worry about_ , he had said, but what could that possibly mean? Quincey was only the son of a banker, after all…wasn’t he? What could he do to a couple of thugs?

Poppy’s gaze instinctively drifted to Tora, who was chain smoking near the door, lazily studying the curves of a nude female statue, the figure short and round like Poppy. She blushed as she watched his eyes slowly trail down the length of the statue and then back up again. Poppy knew that Quincey was a playboy, and a rich one at that, but she wondered if he was capable of hurting someone, even if he wanted to. Tora, on the other hand, seemed to constantly simmer with a low ferocity, one that he quelled whenever she was near. She felt the primal being that lived beneath his skin, aching to be free, and yet she knew without even wondering that even if he could hurt someone else, he would never dare to hurt her.

* * *

The hours passed slowly for Tora, his full pack of cigarettes dwindling down to one. Poppy and Quincey had grown comfortable in their booth, murmuring and laughing as elaborate piles of food were placed before them. The tabletop swarmed with slabs of meat and thick sauces; with dainty stacks of colorful treats and more empty champagne flutes than Tora could count. Even from where he stood, he could see the brilliant blaze of Poppy’s cheeks, her eyes swimming whenever she turned to look at Quincey. She wasn’t drunk, but she was certainly tipsy, her body tucked against Quincey’s, her inhibitions about her outfit completely gone. Tora’s eyes naturally drifted between her face and her chest, internally cursing himself with every unwholesome thought. He knew that Quincey felt the same way, his hand lingering on Poppy’s knee, his face dipped low against her ear. Tora showed nothing on the outside, but inside his blood boiled.

Tora reached for his last cigarette, willing the evening to end, when a loud thud distracted him. Poppy and Quincey hadn’t noticed, the two still enamored with one another at their table, but the back of Tora’s neck began to tingle. Another thud came again from the direction of the kitchen, followed by a sharp sound like the pop of a firework. Tora was striding purposefully towards the booth before he knew what he was doing, his eyes set firmly on Poppy.

The kitchen door exploded open, a body crashing through the wood and glass, shards scattering through the air like snow. Poppy stood with a scream, knocking the contents of her plate across her dress. Quincey stayed sitting, his body rigid, his eyes huge. The person was dead, their back riddled with bullet holes. Gunshots echoed across the restaurant, grunts and shuffling coming from the kitchen. Pots clanged and crashed as one man stumbled over the corpse, a ski mask obscuring his face. He caught himself and looked around the room wildly, finally finding his target in Quincey and Poppy. He raised his gun, the room filling with a deafening pop.

Poppy screamed again as the man crumpled to the ground, a fresh hole through his temple. She turned to see Tora with his own gun drawn. 

“Go,” he barked at Quincey and Poppy. “ _GO!_ ”

Poppy wanted to cry out, to tell him to run, too, but nothing came out. Her whole body violently shook, her heart nearly beating through her chest. Quincey wrapped his hand around hers and tugged, dragging her in the opposite direction of the gunfire. She screamed and ducked as bullets whizzed past their heads, shattering lamps and the mirrored walls, the room’s reflection distorted into a million tiny pieces. Poppy felt fragments of glass tear across her skin but she kept running, barely keeping up with Quincey’s long legs. He threw one glance back towards Tora, who was making short work of the masked figures who poured out the kitchen door. The two guards from the entrance had burst inside, aiding Tora in the chaos.

Quincey pulled Poppy towards the emergency exit, kicking it open and setting off a whirring alarm. He began to pull her towards the stairwell when another masked man appeared before them, this one muscular and tall, taller than even Tora. He walked slowly through the open door, forcing Quincey and Poppy to backtrack in fear.

“Quincey!” Poppy shrieked as the man seized Quincey by his throat and sent him crashing into a nearby table. Her legs stopped working, her eyes shooting back and forth between the man and Quincey’s prone body on the floor. Every bit of her dripped with sweat, her mind wiped completely clean by fear. She grabbed the edge of a nearby booth to keep herself from falling.

“Hello, princess,” the masked man said as he inched closer. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?”

He gripped Poppy’s throat with one large hand, his thumb pushing into her windpipe. She instinctively scratched and clawed at his arm, digging her nails deep into his skin as her eyes began to water. He let out a little yelp when she drew blood, the eyes behind his mask growing dark.

“You stupid cunt,” he seethed, slamming her against the nearest wall, bits of glass digging into her back. The world began to grow quiet as the man tightened his grip, Poppy’s ears filling with the empty whirring of the ocean. The gunshots faded away and her vision grew blurry and dark, her arms and legs unable to reach the man to stop him. She thought that she was dying, turning slowly towards the inconceivable darkness.

A loud crack ripped through the air and the man’s face blew open before Poppy, splattering her with his blood. His grip loosened and fell away as his body crumpled to the ground with a loud crash, Poppy collapsing beside him. She heaved in huge gulps of air, every sensation coming back to her at once, her head filling with an intense pressure. Large hands gripped her face, Tora’s eyes appearing above her.

“Breathe, Poppy,” he demanded. “Breathe. Just breathe.” She clung to his wrists, her chest heaving as she refused to break his gaze. He hunched protectively over her, his head inches from her own. Her lungs began to slowly fill and release again, her eyes refocusing as she drew in more measured breaths. Tora’s own eyes were golden and wild as they roamed over her body, trying to gauge her injuries.

“Tell me where it hurts,” he pleaded as he released her cheeks, his hands working methodically across her shoulders, her arms, her hands. She pointed to her throat and he placed a gentle palm against it, his fingers searching for damage.

“Can you talk?” he asked. Poppy coughed and nodded, his skin warm against hers.

“I think so,” she croaked, Tora’s jaw clenching. Without thinking Tora drew his hand from her throat to cup one of her bloody cheeks, his thumb dragging across her skin.

“You’re OK,” he said to both Poppy and himself. “You’re gonna be OK.”


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bloodshed

**_All my old ways have started kickin' in,_ **

**_And my bad days are comin' round again_ **

_Chelsea Wolfe, "American Darkness"_

Seven

Poppy sat numb and shivering behind the restaurant’s bar, Tora’s jacket tightly wrapped around her shoulders. An ornate screen blocked her from seeing any of the carnage in the restaurant, the voices of numerous men drifting to her in fragments. Tora had dragged a stool to this exact spot for a reason, gently guiding Poppy to it and stationing one of the men from the front door just a few feet away.

“You don’t take your fucking eyes off of her,” Tora told the man with a pointed finger. He waited for a nod and a quiet, “Yes, sir,” before giving Poppy one last look and disappearing back behind the screen.

The night was coming back to Poppy in a slow blur; her mind had detached itself from her body in a panic and she felt like she was floating, inhabiting two spaces at once. She remembered Tora’s feverish eyes and his frenzied hands as they had searched her for injuries. She remembered his palm against her cheek and the desperation she had seen in his face, open and unguarded. She remembered him lifting her slowly, cursing under his breath as he counted the cuts across her arms and legs. And she remembered the loud groan that had come from Quincey, breaking the spell in Tora’s eyes and sending him shuddering back down to earth. He had absently removed his suit jacket and draped it around Poppy, sitting her down at the nearest table before rushing to check on his friend.

Now Quincey sat with an ice pack pressed against a giant purple bruise on his forehead, pouting and groaning. He was perched indifferently in a booth, seemingly oblivious to the bodies that littered the floor around him. There were six of them, now all unmasked, all dead with a precise bullet to the head. Tora stood with a group of suited men, appraising the corpses as if they were monitoring the progress of their crops. Tora’s sleeves were rolled tight, his forearms covered in a mélange of blood.

“I don’t recognize any of them,” one of the suited men said as he walked between the bodies, careful to keep his shoes clean. “Common street thugs looking for a payday?”

“No,” Tora answered. “They knew we were here. They wanted us.”

“Well you two are hardly inconspicuous,” the man said pointedly, glaring first at Tora and then at Quincey. He was gray-haired and handsome, his eyes the same stark blue as Quincey’s.

“Dad,” Quincey began. His father quickly cut him off.

“Save it, Quincey.” Mr. Balthuman’s tone turned acidic. “I’m sick of you acting like a child, wasting all of your money on sports cars and women.” He nodded his head in the direction of Poppy at the bar. “How much did you pay for that whore in there?” Quincey balked and Tora growled, both men glaring.

“ _She’s not a whore_ ,” they said in angry unison.

“I don’t really care who or what she is, Quincey,” Mr. Balthuman sighed, ignoring Tora’s rage. “Maybe if you had been thinking with something other than your dick for once, this wouldn’t have happened. But as it stands, I lost two good men tonight.” The first body to burst from the kitchen had been a Balthuman man, one who had served the family for longer than Quincey had been alive. The piano player had succumbed, too, both of their bodies hastily dragged from the scene out of respect.

“Are you saying this is my fault?!” Quincey shouted as he stood, throwing his ice pack to the ground.

“I’m _saying_ that if these men really wanted you, you made it too fucking easy for them to find you.” Quincey seethed like a petulant child, his chest rising and falling with anger.

“I was simply trying to have a normal night,” Quincey said through clenched teeth. “I don’t know who these men are or what they wanted from me.”

“Well find out,” Mr. Balthuman ordered as he headed towards the emergency exit, several men trailing behind him. “And clean this mess up.” He gestured vaguely towards the restaurant before turning to go, one last thought stopping him.

“Oh, and Quincey? Get rid of the girl.”

* * *

Tora had refused to acknowledge the implications in Mr. Balthuman’s request, knowing that if his boss had really wanted Poppy dead, he would have done the job himself. The very idea was too maddening and vile for Tora to entertain; he would have torn Mr. Balthuman to tiny, bloody shreds before he had let him come near Poppy to hurt her, let alone been the one to do it. Tora could tell that Quincey was thinking the same thing: there was no getting “rid” of Poppy.

“Make sure she gets home safe,” Quincey said softly.

It was true that Quincey was much like an overgrown child, and so his first priority was tending to himself and his own hurt pride. He had asked a few questions about Poppy’s wellbeing, but he was too deep inside his own self-pity, at least at the moment. Tora wanted to punch his friend squarely in the nose; he wanted to shake him and demand that he check on Poppy, not for anyone’s sake but hers. Instead Tora ordered the remaining men to dispose of the bodies and clean away any telling traces from the scene. He shot one last venomous look in Quincey’s direction before heading towards the bar. _You don’t deserve her, Quincey_ , Tora thought.

Poppy looked even smaller and frail on the ride home, Tora’s jacket hanging around her like a cloak. She stared unseeing at the dashboard, her pink mouth firmly closed. Tora watched her more than he watched the road, aching and helpless. It had been so long since he had dealt with someone outside of his violent world, someone who hadn’t been exposed to all of the things that he had seen. He didn’t know what it was like to be sheltered. He imagined Poppy’s life like a field of flowers, carefree and bright, and now that field was doused in blood.

“Kid?” he said when he pulled up to the curb outside her building. “Poppy?” She made no move to get out and Tora began to panic. _I’ve ruined her_ , he thought. _I’ve scarred her forever._ What little composure he had left cracked and fell away when she finally spoke.

“Quincey’s dad isn’t a banker,” she said quietly, still looking straight ahead. “He didn’t make his money from stocks. Did he?” Tora swallowed hard, one arm draped over the steering wheel. He wanted a cigarette more than he had ever wanted one before.

“Poppy…” Tora had no idea what he wanted to say, only that he needed to speak to keep her afloat.

“Tell me the truth, Tora,” she said, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes were unflinching and fierce. “I could have died tonight. I deserve to know what’s going on.” Tora stared at her for a long moment before nodding.

“You do,” he said, squaring his shoulders and scanning the empty street. “The Balthuman Organization…Poppy, they’re a gang. They’re…bad people.” Tora waited for Poppy to recoil or scream, but she simply kept her eyes fixed on his face. It unnerved him more than any bullet.

“And you’re one of them?” she asked softly. Every inch of Tora quaked.

“I am,” he answered.

“And Quincey?”

“He’s the boss’s son,” Tora cringed as he told her. “It’s true that I’m his bodyguard.”

The two sat in the quiet, both looking out opposite windows. Tora nearly shook with fear and anxiety and rage. He wanted to go back in time and change everything; he would have never followed Poppy that first day, never snapped that photo of her, never gotten her involved in any of this. He wanted to shelter her with his body, to lay her down somewhere soft and fuck her into oblivion. And as his eyes traced the fresh bruises around her neck, he wanted to resurrect the bastard that had hurt her just to kill him all over again, this time slowly and painfully. He wanted to be anywhere but where he was, collapsing under the weight of Poppy’s silence.

“Tora,” Poppy finally said, his head snapping towards her. “Can you keep me safe?” Tora didn’t think before he spoke, his mouth knowing the response before his brain did.

“No one will ever hurt you while I’m around, Poppy,” he answered. “I promise.”


	8. Eight

**_Take my hand and pray with me,_ **

**_My final days in company._ **

**_The devil now has come for me,_ **

**_And helicopters circling the scene._ **

_Deerhunter, "Helicopter"_

Eight

The next day Poppy did something she had never done before: she called in sick to work.

“I think it’s just a cold,” she told Erdene over the phone, faking a cough. “But I better stay home just in case.”

“Uh-huh,” Erdene’s voice echoed across the line. “And what’s this cold’s name – Quincey or Tora?” Poppy swallowed hard at hearing the names on her friend’s tongue. She realized that Erdene was too close to the danger that she now found herself in. She wished she had never told her anything about either of the men.

“Really, Erdene,” Poppy tried to keep her tone light. “It’s just a little bug! Nothing else.”

“Girl, at least tell me about your date!” Poppy wanted to match Erdene’s excitement but her mind only turned to blood and bullets whenever she thought about what happened at the restaurant. Still, there had been some good: Quincey, charming and playful, sending shockwaves up her body with his proximity, pouring her glass after glass of sweet, bubbly champagne. And Tora, his face so close to hers, his hand on her cheek. Even now, knowing that they were members of a gang, Poppy couldn’t calm the swell of longing brewing inside of her.

“Can it wait for another time? I think I need to get some rest.” There was a pause. Poppy could practically see Erdene’s expression change.

“Pops, are you OK? Did something happen? Did they do something to you?!”

“I’m fine, Dene,” Poppy said too quickly. Erdene had no idea what she was asking. “I promise. I just came down with something, that’s all. I promise I’ll tell you everything on Monday.” She waited, hoping that would be enough to tide her friend over. Her emotional energy was gone; she had spent the night twisting in her bed, unable to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time before some new horrific image jarred her awake. She felt that large hand around her throat, squeezing, and saw the man’s head as it exploded in front of her, over and over again.

“Alright,” Erdene said finally. “But you have to let me know if you need anything, OK?”

Poppy agreed before throwing Erdene a hasty goodbye, hanging up the phone and tossing it across her bed. Neither Tora nor Quincey had tried to contact her yet and she wasn’t sure if she wanted them to or not. She knew Tora had stayed parked outside her apartment for most of the night, only leaving when a familiar black SUV came to take his place. She had been half tempted to go out to him at 3 in the morning, but she wasn’t sure why. To yell at him? To tell him that he had ruined her life? Or to ask him to come inside, sure that his presence would somehow help her finally sleep?

Poppy groaned as she walked to her bathroom, surveying herself in the mirror. Her eyes and face were puffy from lack of sleep and crying, the bruises around her neck already turning yellow around the edges. The cuts on her arms and legs were superficial, no bigger than paper cuts, but they stung when she moved. She wondered if they would leave behind tiny scars.

“Now what, Poppy?” she asked her reflection. Ordinarily she would have tried to confront the problem head on, compiling a to-do list or brainstorming a game plan. She had a rainbow of notebooks for just such an occasion. But what could she plan about a world she didn’t know anything about? She was sure that she couldn’t write herself out of being involved with a gang, as much as she desperately wanted to.

She went back into her bedroom and wrapped herself around her plush Totoro, her eyes glazing over as she watched TV, waiting for the answer to come to her.

* * *

Savage didn’t even begin to describe the way Tora felt the next day. His neck and back ached from trying to sleep in the sports car, his big body cramped in the small compartment. He gave up on sleep quickly, easily smoking through the pack of cigarettes he had stowed away in the glove box. He was hungry and tired, but more than anything he was worried. He watched Poppy’s second story window with a hawkish intensity, noting how long her lights stayed on, when they went off, and when they flickered back on again in the early morning. He hated every new thought that sprang open in his head. _Look what you’ve done to her_ , he thought to himself. _You’re a monster, a beast._ _Go beg for her forgiveness. Tell her to stay away, to protect herself, to never speak to you again._ Of course Tora knew better than anyone that there was no way out for Poppy once she was in, especially with Balthuman. The only thing he could truly do was uphold his promise to keep her safe.

Unfortunately business was still business, and there was no such thing as a day off for Tora. Quincey had shown up bright and early outside of Tora’s apartment, his usually chipper demeanor noticeably subdued. He was met with numerous scowls, punctuated here and there by a “fuck you,” but he remained undeterred, hovering disapprovingly around the living room. Tora was busy wiping the remaining blood from his bare chest and torso, only half listening to Quincey’s droning. The urge to punch his friend had not subsided.

“We’ve got a lot of stops to make today,” Quincey called to Tora in the bathroom. “Rent’s due, and that asshole Miller has been making too many excuses. He’ll probably need a little roughing up.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tora said as he walked into the room, pulling a fresh t-shirt over his head. He searched the area for cigarettes, his eyes landing on a pack near the sofa.

“Tora, don’t be such a baby,” Quincey scolded as he placed his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a fresh suit jacket, his hair coiffed and clean. His eyes were brilliant and alert.

“A baby?” Tora repeated as he lit a cigarette and let out a long puff.

“Yes, a baby. You act like you’ve never been shot at before. Like you’ve never killed a guy.”

“You think that’s what I’m mad about?” Tora sat down in an old chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Well I don’t know what else it could be,” Quincey answered with a shrug. “I’ve got Smithy looking into those guys so it’s really only a matter of time…”

“Are you that fucking stupid?” Tora asked calmly, rubbing his eyes. Quincey gawped like a fish.

“Excuse me?” Quincey said softly. Tora was out of his seat in a second, grabbing Quincey’s collar and pushing him against the nearest wall, his cigarette still clutched between his fingers. Quincey’s eyes went wide but he had enough sense to stay still. He was no match for Tora’s strength.

“Poppy,” Tora said through his teeth, his nose inches from Quincey’s. “We almost got her killed last night. She got hurt because of _us_.” Quincey studied Tora’s face.

“You mean she got hurt because of _me_ ,” Quincey answered with a glare. “She was there because of _me_. There is no _us_.” Tora gave Quincey one more shove before releasing him, running his fingers through his hair as he paced around the room. Quincey straightened his jacket, watching his bodyguard carefully.

“What has gotten into you?” Quincey asked, his tone cautious with suspicion. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were falling for Poppy.” Tora met Quincey’s eyes with a cold, blank stare.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous,” Tora said as he took a drag, the smoke leaving his mouth in a clean, even channel. The two stood poised for some unknown battle.

“Oh, so now I’m stupid _and_ ridiculous?” Quincey asked.

“Quincey,” Tora began. “I’m _not_ falling for Poppy. If I had my way, I wouldn’t have anything to do with her.” He hoped that the lie sounded convincing enough. “I don’t want some fucking civilian getting caught up in the middle of this. She doesn’t deserve to die because of who we are.” Quincey glared for what felt to Tora like hours, both of their bodies tightly coiled.

“Well lucky for you,” Quincey eventually said, “none of those decisions are any of your business. Now get your coat. We have work to do.”


	9. Nine

**_Evelyn's kiss was oxygen,_ **

**_I leaned over to take it in_ **

_Big Thief, "Shark Smile"_

Nine

The blue sports car was parked outside of Poppy’s apartment again come Saturday evening, serving as both a comfort and a curse. Poppy had spent the day obsessively checking her windows and locking her door, showering with the curtain wide open, the bathroom floor growing slick with water. She had opened and closed her closet and then opened it again, pushing apart the hangers to make sure no one was hiding behind the clothes. The vigilance left her exhausted, several of her nails chewed down to the quick. She tried to imagine her home in the countryside, to calm herself with the image of grassy fields and an endless blue sky. But then a car horn would blare from the city below, shaking her from her small reverie. 

When night fell, Poppy’s fatigue turned first to anger and then to resolve. She knew she was naïve, but she certainly wasn’t weak. She wasn’t going to let fear keep her from her life; she would simply live with it and through it, one step at a time. Her natural optimism was squashed but it wasn’t extinguished, spurning her forward, reminding her that there was nothing to do but simply keep going. And she knew exactly where she was going.

Poppy stomped out into the dark in her sweatpants and t-shirt, tiny fists clenched as she made a beeline for Tora’s car. She rapped on the tinted window with a frown and waited for it to lower. Tora sat in the driver’s seat with a look of confusion across his face.

“Well if you’re going to hang around here, you may as well come inside,” Poppy said before turning back towards her apartment. “And you’re buying me dinner,” she called over her shoulder. Tora watched her, dumbfounded, a small smile growing on his lips. 

Tora didn’t know what to make of Poppy’s home, let alone his place in it; he felt like a glaring bruise on an otherwise perfect peach. The walls were decorated with posters and photos of smiling friends, the couch covered with a rainbow of pillows and a fuzzy orange throw. Numerous shelves held notebooks and trinkets, one adorned with a neon unicorn head. Vibrant green plants dotted the tables and windowsills, some more alive than others. And in the middle of it all stood Poppy, her attention focused on lighting a thick candle. Tora ached at the sight of her in her element, so unguarded and lush. Her hair was still damp from her shower, the smell of her shampoo wafting over to Tora whenever she turned her head. His jaw tightened when he spotted the bruises on her neck.

“How are you feeling?” he asked awkwardly, hovering near the door.

“I’m OK,” she lied, meeting his eyes. “You have to come in if you’re going to buy me dinner.” Her forwardness startled Tora. She had always been shy with him, holding some part of herself back. Now she was being more direct than she had ever been, as if that night at the restaurant had awakened something new in her.

“Um, right,” he answered, taking two small steps into the living room. “What do you want?”

“I want Thai food,” she said matter-of-factly, setting the candle on the coffee table and squaring her shoulders to meet him. “And I want you to teach me how to fight.” Tora narrowed his eyes.

“You… _what?_ ”

“I want you to teach me how to fight,” she said again. The two stared at each other.

“Poppy, what are you talking about?” Tora looked almost casual, his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans, but his face was a telling blend of apprehension and concern.

“I need to know how to protect myself,” she answered, sounding as if she rehearsed the conversation in her mind. “You can’t always be around – it’s just not possible. And I don’t want to be scared all the time. I want to know how to take care of myself.”

Tora thought his heart would rip in two. He hated knowing that she was scared, but of course she was. She had seen someone die in front of her for the first time and Tora knew that no matter what happened after, the first death always stayed with you. He silently cursed both Quincey and himself, his body growing tense as he thought of his boss’s son. The two had spent the day before in near silence, driving from one storefront or bar to another in a dull haze. Tora had snapped too hard when their tenant Miller refused to pay his rent, breaking the drug dealer’s entire right arm before he finally gave in. Tora wanted to keep cracking every bone in the man’s body but Quincey stopped him with a firm hand.

And now Poppy was asking Tora to make her into someone like him, someone who understood the language of violence.

“Poppy, I’m not going to teach you how to fight,” he said sternly, crossing his arms.

“Please, Tora,” she begged, inching closer to him. His breath caught when she said his name. “You don’t have to teach me much. Just a few things. What if something happens to me and you can’t help? What am I supposed to do then? I don’t want to be the damsel in distress and all the videos on YouTube are no help at all!” She reached out to rest a pleading hand on his forearm, both of them feeling the shock as their skin touched. She turned her large brown eyes up to him, gentle as a puppy. _Jesus, kid,_ he thought as he frowned down at her. _You really know what you’re doing._

“OK, fine,” he gave in, Poppy bouncing up and down with glee. “But only a few basic things. No fancy shit.” She nodded happily, gently clapping her hands. Tora didn’t think he would ever get over the tough little cream puff who stood before him, her smile wide and bright, and frankly, he didn’t want to.

* * *

Food cartons were strewn across the surface of the coffee table, the pair lounging at either end of the sofa in a stupor. They had spent the last few hours making light conversation and watching TV, neither one quite willing to dive into any heavier subjects. Tora was impressed by Poppy’s resilience, although he still caught flashes of worry in her face. She had nearly jumped out of her skin when the delivery driver had knocked on the door, Tora calming her with one big hand on her shoulder.

“OK,” Poppy said as she jumped up from the couch and went to stand in the empty space between her living room and kitchen. “Teach me something!”

“Oh come on, kid,” Tora groaned. “Let me at least digest my food.”

“You’ve had plenty of time to digest!” she teased, grabbing one of his hands in both of hers. She tugged valiantly, Tora admiring her determination despite the fact that she couldn’t shift him a single inch. He finally gave in with a huff, pulling himself to his feet.

“Alright, alright,” he said, joining her. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, a bit of the lightness leaving her. “I just don’t want to feel helpless again.” She looked down at her feet and Tora knew that she was remembering the thug who had wrapped his hand around her neck. Tora’s face glowed with a quiet rage. 

“Well then you need to know some of the classics,” he said, shifting into his training mode. He waited until Poppy met his eyes. “The face is a good place to start. Heel of the hand into the nose works every time.” He curved his hand back to demonstrate, Poppy following his example. He reached for her instinctively, molding her palm into formation and moving her arm up and down towards his face.

“Make sure it’s quick,” he told her, “and put your whole body into it, all the way from your feet. Use your legs.”

“My legs?” Poppy wondered and Tora assumed a slightly bent stance, pushing his body up and forward with his feet and calves. Poppy watched him intently, bending her body into the same position. Tora nodded approvingly.

“Good. Imagine you’re pushing a boulder – you want to put all your strength into it to make sure you break the guy’s nose. And if that doesn’t work, go for the eyes.”

“The eyes?” Poppy stopped mid-push, shock playing across her features. 

“If you can reach ‘em,” Tora said, holding out his hands as if he were gripping an invisible face. “You press your thumbs right into the eye sockets as hard as you can.” Poppy cringed.

“But won’t that…” She couldn’t finish.

“Yeah, it gets messy,” Tora answered, oblivious to her concern. “Now, what’s the most sensitive spot on a man?”

“The heart?”

“The crotch,” Tora said. Poppy flinched, her cheeks turning pink. “All else fails, a knee, a kick, a punch – whatever you can do, hit ‘em in the crotch.” Poppy twisted the hem of her shirt.

“What if they attack me from behind?”

"A headbutt always works."

"A headbutt?" 

“Yeah, a headbutt. I’ll show you.”

Tora circled behind Poppy without thinking, wrapping both arms around her waist and pulling her snug against his body, her hands pinned in place. The back of her head pressed into his chest and the scent of her obliterated any thoughts he had of training, his fingers slowly spreading across the sweet swell of her belly before he realized what he was doing. Every part of Poppy was flush with him, her softness melting against his hard ridges. She squirmed and her butt rubbed his crotch maddeningly, all of his blood flowing down to that tender spot. Tora felt Poppy’s chest rise and fall, her breasts lifting his forearms, both of them breathing heavily, his mouth nearly touching her ear.

“Poppy…” he started as they stood completely still.

“Tora,” she whispered. “Is that your…” Tora heard the apprehension in her voice and quickly dropped his arms in sudden embarrassment, walking into the kitchen with his back to her.

“Jesus,” he hissed, placing his hands on the counter. “I’m so sorry, Poppy.” She was silent behind him, his head spinning and full. His fingers tingled and his crotch throbbed, his whole body overcome with an intense, shameful heat.

“I should go.” He made to slip out the door, unwilling to see the look of horror in Poppy’s eyes. His hand was on the knob when he felt her palm press against his arm, her fingers digging into him. He turned his head to see her looking at him with a sort of awe, her lips pressed together until her cheeks dimpled.

“Tora,” she said softly, spinning him towards her. She searched his face and let her eyes trail down his body to the prominent bulge in his pants. She reached out and cupped him gently as she met his gaze.

“Fuck,” Tora breathed, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. “What are you doin’, kid?” She slowly ran her hand up and down the length of him, their foreheads touching. When he opened his eyes again, she was staring boldly and brightly, a hunger dancing across her face.

“I don’t know,” she quietly admitted. She stroked him harder, Tora raising his hands to gently cup her face.

“Kiss me, Tora,” she said. She didn’t have to tell him twice. 


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Smut-mas Eve!

**_Damn my dreams, the tormentors_ **

**_Last night your mouth was on my skin_ **

**_And the poppies were like fire on the mountain_ **

**_I took your hand and led you home_ **

_Chelsea Wolfe, "American Darkness"_

Ten

Poppy couldn’t name what she was feeling; she only knew that she was feeling it so intensely that she thought she would burst. Maybe her adrenaline hadn’t abated since the restaurant and it was making her unintentionally reckless, forcing her to do anything to keep herself at that same heightened sense of being. Or maybe she realized that she was alive only for today, and that what she felt for Tora would mean nothing if either one of them was to die tomorrow.

Tora said Poppy’s name as if it were a prayer that would save him from himself. His hands swallowed her face, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones. His eyes were molten as he sought her kiss, their lips pressed together only briefly before he ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth. She opened with a little moan and he pushed inside. There was nothing but softness and heat, their tongues working in tandem, each desperate to taste the other. A sweetness blossomed in Poppy’s stomach, spreading down between her legs, Tora pulsing in her hand. She whimpered when he broke the kiss.

“Wait,” he panted. “Wait. What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know what I’m doing,” she answered. Tora frowned.

“You mean you don’t know what you’re doing with me?” His voice nearly cracked as he asked.

“No,” she said in an embarrassed breath. “I mean I don’t know what I’m doing because I’ve only done this once before.” Tora’s heart drummed in his chest so loud that he was certain Poppy could hear it. Stray hands of her hair danced across his face, his lips still sweet from the taste of her. She was so small, so unworldly, and he had never wanted anything or anyone as much as he wanted her in that moment.

“Poppy,” he started, covering her hand with his to stop her stroking. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“Why?” she asked as she released him and pulled away. “Don’t you want me?”

“Sweetheart,” Tora said with a smirk, looking pointedly at his crotch “I think it’s pretty obvious that I do.” 

“Then why?”

Tora looked her up and down, her curves barely hidden beneath the grey fabric of her t-shirt and pants. She wasn’t pouting like a child, but was instead standing before him as a woman, her shoulders back, her head raised to meet him. Her mouth was strawberry pink from his forceful kisses, her face a rosy red that disappeared beneath her collar. Tora knew that the rest of her was covered in that same beautiful blush, the thought sending sweat beading down the back of his neck.

“Because once I start,” Tora said, “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” Poppy bit her lip.

“There’s no going back after this,” he went on, not sure if he was trying to talk her in or out of what they were doing. “You know that, right? I won’t be able to let you go, kid.”

Poppy stepped forward and grasped him again, her brown eyes set.

“I don’t want you to let me go,” she said softly. Tora groaned.

 _Fuck everything,_ he thought. _Fuck Quincey and fuck Balthuman. Fuck the cars and the money and the women. Fuck the violence, fuck the rivals, fuck the drug dealers and the liars, fuck the bullets and the blood. Fuck the streets. Fuck the city. Fuck the world. Fuck the pain and the yearning and anything that tries to get in our fucking way. Fuck anyone who isn’t us._

This time Tora kissed her harder, his hands skimming her neck as if his touch could heal her. He pressed his body to hers, her breasts soft against his chest, his tongue flickering through her mouth. She was honey and lightning, delicious and sharp. She whimpered softly in the back of her throat and Tora growled, his nerves on fire.

“Poppy,” he said as he pulled away. She clung to his wrists, his hands warm on her cheeks. “Tell me what you want.” Poppy felt terrified and drunk, her whole body trembling. She’d only been with a boy before, and Tora was a man, large and virile but tender as he held her. She knew she ached for him, for him to be as close to her as possible, but her inexperience kept her silent.

“Tell me, baby,” Tora pleaded, a lump growing in Poppy’s throat. She could feel every chiseled inch of him.

“I want you,” she said quietly, Tora’s growl growing louder.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked. Poppy was undone by the desperation in his voice.

“I want you to fuck me, Tora.” Tora didn’t know what he had been expecting but it certainly wasn’t this. He didn’t know how to be anything but gentle with Poppy, but she had asked him to do something primal and wild to her, something that he had to force himself to control. He would give her what she wanted, slowly and thoroughly, until she forgot everything but him.

His chest rumbled, fierce and animal-like, as he trailed his hands down Poppy’s back to cup her butt, his mouth and tongue working at her throat, lapping and nipping. He picked her up easily, Poppy squeaking in surprise, and carried her into her room, laying her softly on the bed as if he were afraid to break her. He gingerly climbed on top, careful to balance his weight. They kissed ferociously, Poppy working her hands through Tora’s thick hair, her nails scraping across his scalp. He pushed against her as she dug her fingers into the tensed muscles in his neck. Without thinking she bit down on his lower lip and he moaned into her mouth, one hand in her hair as the other sought her breasts. He kneaded one and then the other, the full mounds fitting perfectly in his palms. He flicked his thumb over each nipple until they poked through the fabric of her bra and shirt.

“Tora,” she whimpered, dazed by his frenzied machinations.

“Is this OK?” he asked as he searched her face, her eyelids heavy with pleasure. She nodded and reached up to touch his cheek.

“I want you to…” She shut her eyes tightly, embarrassed by her desires, by the way her body was pushing towards him, every part of her humming with electricity.

“Tell me, Poppy,” he breathed in her ear, biting the lobe. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you…” she started and stopped again. “I want you to suck them.” A jolt traveled from Tora’s head down to his toes, centering in his cock. The request was erotic and innocent, beautiful and simple; it was Poppy.

“Poppy, open your eyes.” He waited until she did, her pupils growing large. “Say it again.”

“I want you to suck them,” she repeated, never breaking his gaze. Tora groaned, the last of his composure melting away. _Anything_ , he thought. _Anything you want._

He lowered his head, slowly running his hand down Poppy’s chest to her stomach, pushing up her t-shirt as he dotted her skin with small kisses. He pulled the fabric over her arms and head, his heart roaring as he saw the pale slopes, barely contained by a lacy pink bra. With a devilish smirk he traced the lace with his lips, dipping his tongue beneath to touch the edge of each nipple. Poppy squirmed and moaned, gripping Tora’s head and pushing him closer to her. He let out a laugh, his breath warming her skin, and snaked his fingers behind her back, expertly unclasping her bra. Tora pulled the garment away from her slowly, revealing her to him inch by inch. He stared in wonder as he tossed the bra across the room, marveling at the shape of her, her nipples the same sweet color as her lips. Poppy instinctively tried to cover herself with her arms but Tora stopped her with a playful tsk.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispered. He was right: her whole body blushed the same shade of red.

Tora sat up and pulled his own shirt over his head, Poppy struck dumb by all his hard angles, his body so unlike her own. She dragged her hands up and down his torso, lingering on his back, his chest, his stomach. Her pale skin glowed against his technicolor tattoos. He met her eyes as he dipped his head again, drawing one nipple into his mouth, Poppy going breathless. He alternated between sucking and licking, running the flat of his tongue over the entire pink peak. When she moaned, Tora sucked harder, his teeth softly nibbling. He released her with an audible pop, her nipple glistening and stiff, and flicked his tongue over the very tip before moving to the other side, Poppy clawing at his back.

“Easy, Pops,” he said with a laugh. She loosened her grip with a small apology, but the look of hunger in Tora’s eyes only deepened. “We’ve got a long way to go and I’d hate for you to wear yourself out.”

He smiled and pushed her breasts together, tugging both nipples back into his mouth, Poppy letting out a small cry of ecstasy. He sucked greedily as if he were trying to devour her, Poppy’s whimpers only spurning him on. Tora released her breasts only after a few long minutes, one hand trailing down the soft hill of her stomach to disappear inside the waistband of her pants. His fingers stalled beneath her panties, her heat driving him close to his breaking point. She twisted under him, wrought mad by his stillness.

“Tora,” she whined.

“Yes?” he asked with an innocent grin.

“Please, Tora,” she begged, trying to work her body up to meet his hand. Tora easily held her in place.

“Please what?” he said. He couldn’t tell if her blush was from excitement or frustration; her glassy eyes turned fierce.

“Please touch me,” she groaned. “Please.”

“Please touch you where?” She wanted to throttle him for being so smug but she was too dazed to do much of anything but plead. The smell and taste of him enveloped her, his middle finger moving achingly slow, waiting for her to say the words.

“Please touch my pussy!” she blurted out.

Tora chuckled, not knowing how or where a girl like Poppy would have learned a word like that, her request ringing like music in his ears. He let his hand slide down to her core, his fingers separating her lips as they searched for her pool of wetness, trailing back up to caress her swollen clit. Poppy could do little more than breathe, her legs trembling as Tora rubbed lazy circles against her.

“Fuck, Poppy,” he said as he slipped one finger inside of her, gently pumping, his thumb moving around her clit. “You’re soaked.” Poppy didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, her body tensing with shame. Tora must have sensed the change, stilling his fingers as he kissed one breast and then the other before meeting her eyes. “You’re perfect.”

He craned his neck to give Poppy a small, sweet kiss, pulling his hand from her waistband to feel the curves of her body. He traced her hourglass figure up to her breasts and back down the S-shape of her hips, slowly removing her sweatpants and panties, Poppy using her legs to help push them off. She realized only then how exposed she was, laying there inconceivably bare, the room’s lamps casting a warm, vivid glow. Tora’s expression was full of lust and longing and something else, something soft that Poppy had never seen before. She thought it looked like adoration, like the way one admires a beautiful work of art. He appraised her for a long moment before kissing a trail down her stomach, the muscles in his back flexing in a beautiful dance. A desperate fire erupted inside of her.

“Tora,” she said.

“Mm?” he answered, his mouth pressed close to her belly button. This time she didn’t hesitate.

“I want you to kiss my pussy.” Tora stopped what he was doing and pulled away to read her face. She was panting, almost primal with desire, and Tora’s eyes blazed at what he saw. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He met Poppy’s lips with a ferocious rumble.

“Oh I think I can do better than that,” Tora said with a wicked grin.


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Smut-mas to all and to all a good night!

**_This will never end 'cause I want more,_ **

**_More, give me more_ **

**_Give me more_ **

_Fever Ray, "If I Had a Heart"_

Eleven

Before Poppy could ask what he meant, Tora’s lips closed over the small bud of her clit. She screamed, clutching at the sheets as he flicked his tongue back and forth, the wet tip rubbing across her wild nerves. She didn’t think it was possible to feel so much in so small a place but her entire being was shaking, her legs widening to draw Tora closer. He placed one firm hand on her stomach and snaked the other one down to her soft opening, pushing two fingers inside. He began to pump in and out, his tongue running up and down the length of her, slurping her tender hood.

“Tora,” she breathed. “ _Tora_.”

He moaned in reply, the sound vibrating through Poppy, and curved his fingers inside of her, finding a dangerously sensitive spot. Sparks flashed at the corners of her vision as his thrusting quickened, his mouth now sealed tightly to her. He suckled hard, pushing into her down to his knuckles, his free hand greedily clawing at her breasts. The tension built in Poppy; it climbed higher and higher, the intensity growing into an endless tower. Her hands flailed about her, unable to clutch anything that would tether her to the Earth. Tora’s movements became a blur of sensation, all dwindling to one tiny peak of light that burst open in Poppy’s head. Her mind went blank, her body arching as she screamed his name.

“Tora!” she cried before crashing back down to the bed, moaning and whimpering. Tora forced the last shockwaves through her body before slowly pulling out of her with a soft squelch, every inch of her trembling. Poppy looked down at him starry-eyed, watching numbly as he sucked his fingers clean, his eyes on fire. He kissed her thigh and laid his head on her panting stomach, his jaw tight from use.

“Poppy?” Tora asked after a few minutes. Poppy felt drugged; she swore she could see cartoon birds circling her head.

“Hm?” she answered, her fingers tangled in his hair.

“You OK?” She laughed, all of her nerves replaced with a twinkling euphoria. She said the first thing that popped into her head.

“I’m _magical_ ,” she answered easily, her eyes still glazed. Tora looked up at her with a grin and she looked back at him with a lazy smile. Her eyes landed on the bulge still evident in his pants.

“Oh!” she said as she shot up, Tora sitting up with her. The room spun. “What about…? I mean, we should…” She gestured helplessly at his crotch.

“It’s OK, kid,” Tora forced himself to say. “We can just leave it here for tonight.” The tang of her was still fresh on his lips, his cock so hard that he was sure it had turned to stone. He would have to lock himself in her bathroom and take care of it soon, before he passed out from lack of circulation to his brain.

“But…” Poppy stumbled over her words. “I don’t want to leave it here.” Tora arched an eyebrow at her. “I want to touch you. I want to make you feel good, too.”

Her voice was quiet, her skin growing scarlet again. There was resolve behind the glitter in her eyes and Tora was too far gone to fight his desires. He matched her gaze as he stood from the bed and began to remove his belt, but Poppy scooted to the edge and stopped him. He dropped his hands as he watched her undo the buckle with a soft clink, her eyes liquid and soft. He bit his lip and ran his hand through her hair as she popped open the buttons on his jeans and pulled the zipper down. He thought he might faint. Poppy tugged down his pants before she lost her nerve, letting them pool at his feet. He stepped out of them, studying her intently, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Oh,” she breathed when she realized he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The sight of him both thrilled and terrified her, his cock as big as he was. She had never touched a man like this and so she only had instinct as her guide; instinct and the dirty videos she had watched the night before. She wrapped her small hand around his shaft and he hissed, causing her to recoil as if she had been shocked.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked with worry. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, sweetheart,” Tora answered, breathless. “You couldn’t do this wrong if you tried.” She gave him a hesitant smile before reaching for him again.

She gingerly stroked up and down his length, her hand barely able to fit around him. A dewy bead had formed on the tip of his thick head and Poppy leaned over to lick it clean with the end of her tongue. Every muscle in Tora’s body was primed and aching; he desperately wanted to push himself inside her mouth but knew that things had to go at Poppy’s pace, at least for tonight. He settled for a hand on the back of her head, gently guiding her towards him.

“Poppy,” he breathed.

Poppy wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock and the world tilted around him; he closed his eyes and lifted his head towards the ceiling, unsure of anything but Poppy’s mouth and the way it worked over him. Her tongue pressed against his glans, the inside of her lips trailing slowly around his corona as she twisted her head. She traced the small, sensitive spots there, fascinated by each new texture and vein. She pushed her head lower, taking more of him in, pulling with a gentle suction. Tora released several choice words under his breath and Poppy suddenly felt stronger, amazed that she could rattle such a big, intimidating man. She sheathed his base with her hand, his shaft too long for her to cover with her mouth alone, despite the fact that she could feel his head tickling the back of her throat. She pressed herself an inch further and a small cough bubbled over her tongue.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Tora said as he lifted her face to look at him. “Take your time.” She gave a small nod before drawing him back into her mouth, her head bobbing slowly up and down, her hand echoing the movement. “That’s it,” Tora moaned. “Good girl.”

Poppy sucked hard on his cock, her hand and mouth working together as her head bounced. She could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his shaft, his hardness covered in a thin layer of velvet skin. She twirled and turned, stopping to give him a few tentative licks. After a few minutes she pulled him from her mouth with a wet pop, a silvery line of spit trailing between them.

“Tora?” she asked tentatively.

“Yes?” he croaked, his teeth clenched.

“Do you…still want to fuck me?” Tora stared down at her in disbelief.

“Sweetheart, I’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment I first saw you,” he admitted plainly. Poppy crawled backwards on the bed, her gaze unwavering. She half reclined on the pillows, opening her legs to him.

“Then fuck me,” she said softly. Tora’s face crumpled in defeat, his last bit of resistance vanquished.

“Goddammit, Poppy,” he said under his breath. He groped blindly for his jeans, praying he had a condom tucked inside his wallet. He sent a silent prayer to any and every god when he found one, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth and slipping it on, Poppy watching with fascination. 

Tora climbed slowly up Poppy’s body, laying kisses over her thighs, stomach, and breasts. He pressed his palm to her cheek, his thumb tracing the fullness of her bottom lip. There was a reverence in his eyes, the moment holy and surreal. Tora took hold of his cock and ran the head over Poppy’s clit before pushing himself inside, her supple heat nearly unbearable. Poppy gasped at the pressure, her body full. He burrowed his face into her neck, running his lips along her skin.

“You OK?” he whispered. Poppy nodded vigorously, wrapping her arms and legs around his back, pulling him deeper.

“Yes,” she whimpered. “ _Yes_.”

Tora drew out of Poppy before thrusting back in, her whole body clenching around him. He did it over and over again, his hips undulating like a wave, burying himself at the crest. The tightness began to build in Poppy again, this time stronger and more real, her body doused in the essence of Tora, his sweat mingling with her own. She bit his shoulder and Tora grunted, the sound almost bestial.

“Faster,” Poppy whined. Tora sped up, his balls smacking against her butt. He began to lose himself inside of her, inside of the sweet tug and pull, inside of the way she desperately held him. He dropped every four-letter word he could think of until his brain had melted beyond speech, his breath leaving him in deep gasps.

“Don’t stop,” Poppy begged. “Please don’t stop.” Tora pounded into her, shaking the bed, both of them panting wildly.

“Cum for me, Poppy,” Tora breathed, his body tight and ready for release. “Come on, sweetheart.” He drove into her twice more and she climaxed, her body rolling over the intense pleasure, her legs shivering as she lost her grip on him. He pushed once more and came hard, meeting her fervent cry, his hips pulsing with each burst.

It was an ecstasy like death, so final and complete. He needed nothing more in this life or the next. There was only Poppy, soft and sweet beneath him, full of him, calling his name. 


	12. Twelve

**_If I could keep this hour_ **

**_And hold it gently next to me_ **

**_Then it would sparkle like a jewel_ **

**_And always mean so much to me_ **

_Cranes, "Jewel"_

Twelve

Tora didn’t know how long he dozed, but when he awoke, Poppy was fast asleep in his arms, her face nuzzled into his neck. He hesitated before untangling himself from her limbs, slipping on his jeans and retreating to the balcony; he desperately needed a smoke. Outside the world was still dark, fall descending on the city, the air crisp and cool. Tora pulled a cigarette from the pack with his lips and the lighter flared bright in the night, the first inhale sending relief coursing through his body.

He hadn’t lied to Poppy: there was no going back after this. There was no denying how he felt about her or what he would do for her, and there was certainly no Quincey. He’d sooner die than see the two of them together like they had been that night at the restaurant, Quincey’s hand on her bare shoulder, his mouth close to hers. The memory made Tora’s stomach turn with jealousy and rage, despite the fact that Poppy had so obviously chosen him. _She’s yours_ , he told himself, but something nagged at the back of his mind, some persistent belief that he wasn’t good enough for someone as pure as Poppy.

Poppy. He thought of her writhing beneath him, her eyes bright with passion, her lips swollen and soft. The image made his cock stir and he softly cursed, leaning against the railing as he exhaled a cloud. It all still seemed so unreal, as if he were still drifting through a dream, waiting to wake up cold and alone in his apartment. He ran his fingers over his lips to make sure he could still taste her. Believing that this was real meant that there were real consequences, too. How would he explain this to Quincey? How would he keep her safe from the world? How would he keep her safe from himself?

Tora smoked two more cigarettes before tip-toeing back inside. He found Poppy awake in bed, the room’s lamps extinguished so that she was illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight. He stared at her with wonder and she looked back with a small, shy smile, drawing the covers up over her chest. Tora shook his head.

“What did I tell you about that?” he chided.

“But I’m cold!” Poppy responded. Tora peeled off his jeans.

“Then I’ll keep you warm,” he offered, climbing under the sheets and pulling her flush with his body, his cock pressing against her thigh. Their faces were close, their breath mingling. Poppy searched Tora’s face, his expression blank except for his eyes.

“Tora?” she started.

“Poppy?”

“Was that…what you were hoping for?” Tora drew his head back to better appraise her. He couldn’t believe what she was asking. “I mean, you said you had always wanted to do… _that_ with me, and I told you I’ve only done it once before so I’m not all that good at it…”

“Poppy,” Tora interrupted. He waited until she met his eyes. “I’ve imagined this in my head a million times, in a million different ways. But my imagination never felt as good as you felt tonight. I meant it when I said you’re perfect.” Tora didn’t know where the words came from – they had simply formed on his tongue, his mouth a vessel for the truth his mind refused to hear.

“Was that what you were hoping for?” he asked her back. Poppy bit her lip and nodded with a smile.

“That was like nothing I’ve ever felt before,” she answered. “I didn’t even know you could make my body do those things. How did you know how to do all of that?” Tora winced.

“Practice,” he said simply, hoping she would leave it at that. He didn’t want to tell her about the phases of his youth, when he had tried to use sex as an escape from himself. He was only glad that his old habits left him with the necessary skills to make Poppy happy.

“Oh,” she said, casting her eyes down. Tora lifted her chin with a finger.

“It was a long time ago, Poppy,” he said to her. “There’s no one but you.” She smiled softly and he leaned in to kiss her, their mouths easily fitting together.

“Can I ask you something, kid?” Tora said when their lips parted. Poppy stared in expectation. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you?” A line of confusion burrowed across her forehead. Had he not just given her unparalleled elation, his strength held in check, his tenderness feather-soft against her skin?

“I’m in a gang, Poppy,” he answered, his tone suggesting that she was daft. “You saw me kill people right in front of you.” She flinched at his words and Tora cursed himself for bringing it up.

“But they were bad people,” she said softly.

“Still…” Tora waited, watching Poppy’s face as turned to look at the ceiling, her eyes searching for something that wasn’t there. She was choosing her words carefully.

“The boy I lost my virginity to,” Poppy started, “his name was Julri. He was my first boyfriend – he was my _only_ boyfriend. We had been dating for a couple of months when he told me he wanted to have sex with me, and I said no because I was nervous and not ready. He got mad and it scared me. It scared me a lot.” Tora’s shoulders tightened, his fist clenching into a tight ball.

“He kept asking,” she went on. “All the time, every day, he kept asking to have sex with me. It wasn’t like _we_ were going to have sex – it was like he was going to have sex with me. It was different. And one day I couldn’t take it anymore, I couldn’t take him begging me, I couldn’t take his friends judging me. So I said yes. And…it hurt. It hurt a lot, and it scared me, and I thought it was weird and wrong that someone who was supposed to care about me was doing this to me.” Poppy fell silent, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, one cascading down her cheek when she turned to look at Tora again.

“I was scared of you, too, Tora, when I first met you,” she admitted. “You were so big and menacing. I had never met anyone like you before. But…it was a different kind of scared. I was scared of you because you were a stranger, not because of what you had done to me. You never hurt me, you never asked me to do anything I didn’t want to do. After a while, I started to feel safe with you, like I didn’t even have to ask myself if I could trust you because my heart already knew. I guess I never felt like that with Julri.” Tora reached up instinctively to wipe away Poppy’s tear. He didn’t know if his heart was breaking or if it was piecing itself back together. A pressure built in his throat, a feeling he hadn’t known since childhood.

“This Julri have a last name?” he asked quietly. Poppy laughed through her tears.

“Why? So you can go beat him up?”

“Nothin’ like that,” Tora said innocently. “I just wanna… _talk_.”

“Well I don’t want you to talk,” Poppy answered as she leaned into him. “I want you to kiss me.”

Tora let her win, at least for now.

* * *

Poppy woke with the sun on her skin, the morning warm and blue. She watched Tora sleeping for a long while, pushing stray hairs from his face. She had never seen him look so soft and unguarded, his worries evaporating with his consciousness. She wanted to cling to his warm body forever, her bed a lifeboat that would keep both of them safe. But her belly began to rumble, calling to her other instincts, and she remembered the box of strawberry Pop-Tarts in her cupboard.

Poppy pulled on shorts and a camisole before padding out to the kitchen, the food from last night still sitting on the coffee table, the television humming. She gathered up the cartons and made quick work of the mess, switching off the TV so that she was suddenly alone with her thoughts. Her mind didn’t have to drift far to wonder about Tora, and Quincey, and everything that had transpired in the last several hours.

She didn’t know what had first come over her when she had felt Tora’s bulge press against her back; she only knew that she was so turned on that she was sure he could smell her arousal. She had felt something for Tora since the day they first saw each other, even as he was following her through that train. But she had felt something for Quincey, too, something wholesome and realistic. Quincey was supposed to be the right guy for her, the right guy to bring home to her parents.

Quincey made her feel special, but Tora made her feel alive. 

There were no more questions, no more speculation, no more doubt. Not after Tora had swelled inside of her, fierce but smooth, pushing her to some higher plane with every thrust of his hips. But more than that, there was no going back after she had seen the look in his eyes, so full of admiration and affection; so full of something that almost looked like love. She didn’t know what the future would bring, especially because of who Tora was and what he did for a living, but she knew that she had made the right choice.

An hour later Poppy heard Tora walk out into the kitchen, her back turned to him as she rummaged through her lower cabinets for a pan, her butt pressing up into the air. She was hardly the domestic type, but she had devised a wild plan to make breakfast for Tora, something simple like eggs. She figured that would be pretty hard to ruin.

“Good morning!” she called over her shoulder. “I thought I would make you breakfast! Do you like eggs?” Tora said nothing. “I mean, you seem like you eat a lot of protein, but I don’t think I have any meat…”

Poppy went motionless when she felt Tora’s big hand press against her back, running along the exposed skin where her camisole had bunched up. He snaked one arm around her stomach and pulled her upright, keeping her back to him. She said his name as a question but he stayed silent, his fingers tracing the top of her camisole before suddenly yanking the fabric down, her breasts bouncing free. She gasped when he squeezed her, rolling her nipples between his forefinger and thumb, his mouth moving up and down her neck. Poppy reached an arm back and gripped his head, drawing him closer.

Tora pushed Poppy back down so that her butt remained up in the air. He slid her shorts down over her legs and pulled them free from her feet, tracing the white hills of her cheeks. Poppy didn’t know what he was doing and she frankly didn’t care; she simply held onto the counter and waited. Tora ran one finger down her crack and found her opening, pressing himself inside, using his other hand to part her cheeks. Poppy let out a little yelp when she felt his tongue press against her from behind, following the line of her all the way up to her clit. It was an entirely new sensation from the night before, every part of him reaching deeper. Poppy had never known that a man would want to taste her there, to put his mouth against her and gently suck, but that was exactly what Tora was doing.

He lapped at her clit, two fingers working inside of her, his nose buried in her behind. Poppy whined softly, the sound mingling with the quiet squish of her wetness. Tora pulled from her only after she was thoroughly drenched, laying a kiss on each butt cheek before standing and lining his cock up against her. He pushed into her tightness slowly, his breath catching, Poppy bracing herself against the counter as he went down to his hilt. She could feel every bit of him inside of her. He began to curl his torso, dragging out and ramming back in, tickling at the back of Poppy’s clit with every turn.

“Tora,” she said, not knowing if it was a tribute or a plea.

He began to go faster, his cock driving into her, shaking her whole body. The pleasure was so real, so whole, that Poppy thought she might sob, tears forming in her eyes. She reached her hand back blindly, seeking Tora’s touch, and he grabbed hold on her arm, clutching her desperately. He hunched his body over her protectively, his chest following the curve of her back, and pawed at her swaying breasts. Poppy screamed when she came, the kitchen and her apartment disappearing around her. When she fell back down to Earth, she heard Tora groaning behind her and felt hot, liquid ribbons stream across her back. 

“Tora!” She panted his name like an admonishment. Tora had to focus hard to realize what he had just done.

“Fuck,” he said, searching for a towel. “I’m sorry, Poppy. Here, let me…” Before he could finish, Poppy stood up and twisted her arm back behind her, craning her neck as she ran two fingers through Tora’s cum. Tora stood still as stone as she met his eyes and brought the fingers to her mouth, sucking him off of her.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered in awe.

“So, breakfast?” she asked cheerfully, licking her lips.


	13. Thirteen

**_If dreams were lightning,_ **

**_Thunder was desire,_ **

**_This old house would have burnt down_ **

**_A long time ago_ **

_John Prine, "Angel from Montgomery"_

Thirteen

Poppy’s week evolved into a strange and beautiful routine, her spirits constantly buoyed by thoughts of Tora. She knew she should be scared or anxious, but instead she felt calm and safe, more so than she had ever felt before. At work on Monday, Erdene nearly pounced on Poppy like a wild animal, firing ten million questions at once.

“So where did you go? What was it like? How was Quincey dressed? Did he pull out your chair? He better have pulled out your chair! Was Tora there the whole time? Did he follow you guys around? Did he give you that weird look all night?”

“Erdene!” Poppy finally interrupted with a laugh. “Quincey took me to a restaurant. It was…nice. And we sat in a booth, so there was no chair to pull out.”

“Hm,” Erdene huffed, not satisfied. “Well did he at least foot the bill? A guy with that much money could have rented the whole place out for just the two of you.” Poppy cringed and bit her lip, Erdene’s eyes growing large as plates. “He _didn’t_!” she exclaimed.

“He did,” Poppy admitted. “It was very sweet of him.” A trickle of guilt ran down Poppy’s spine. Quincey had been so kind to her, even if he had yet to call and ask how she was feeling. Part of her was thankful for his absence – she didn’t know how to tell him that she didn’t want to go out with him again, and she certainly didn’t know how to tell him about Tora. She secretly hoped that he would quickly lose interest and move on to some other girl, someone who better fit his image.

“So is this Quincey guy the reason you were feeling ‘sick’?” Erdene asked playfully, leaning over Poppy’s desk, her low-cut top revealing her narrow chest. “You _are_ looking especially glow-y today…” Poppy’s skin grew hot when she thought of all the ways that Tora had made her “glow.”

“It’s nothing like that, Dene,” she insisted. “He was really charming and really sweet, but…”

“But?”

“I just don’t think he’s the right person for me.” A tension released in Poppy’s shoulders, one she didn’t know she had been holding on to. It felt good to finally admit the truth out loud to someone, even if that someone was just Erdene.

“Well what about that Tora guy that came to the door?” Erdene pressed. “Girl, you better jump on that before someone else does!”

“Yeah, maybe…” Poppy stared off towards nothing with a smile, Erdene watching her carefully. An impish smirk trailed across her face but the look of wonder in Poppy’s eyes stopped her from prying any further. Her friend was so very obviously happy for maybe the first time since moving to Narin City and Erdene’s heart swelled.

“Well you let me know if you need any help with that one,” Erdene said as she headed back to her desk. “But it sounds to me like you’ve already got him hooked.”

Poppy certainly didn’t feel like she had anyone hooked, let alone a guy like Tora. She knew that he cared for her and that he had expressed it in a hundred different ways over the weekend, but she still felt self-conscious around him, like a child around an adult. Maybe she wasn’t experienced enough for him, or maybe she wasn’t smart enough. Maybe he wanted a girl who was tall and slim, or a girl who worked somewhere hipper, like a bar or club. But those doubts began to recede as Poppy came home every night to Tora leaning coolly and casually against her building, a plume of smoke drifting from his mouth. He wouldn’t kiss her until they were inside, grabbing hold of some squishy part of her as if he were drowning, his tongue smoky and imploring. Poppy gave in easily and they would find themselves tangled together throughout her apartment, Tora always desperate to press her against the nearest flat surface. It was almost enough to convince her of his genuine affection.

Almost.

* * *

Late Friday night, Tora and Poppy lay on her sofa watching TV, both spent from the week. Erdene had assigned Poppy a new project compiling a list of possible donors for Giant Goldfish, all corporations and philanthropic big-wigs who were surprisingly unkind to Poppy on the phone and even more unpleasant in person. She knew Tora was exhausted, too, from the stories – heavily censored – that he told her about his long days, recounting the ways he followed Quincey around the city as they conducted their business. Poppy was grateful that Tora spared her the details, but she wasn’t completely naïve to what “business” meant. Even in the midst of their passion she knew when Tora would discreetly remove his gun from his waistband and place it somewhere safe, the realization surprising her every time. She was filing away the worry in a separate part of her brain, working up the courage to one day ask Tora if he would ever leave the Balthuman Organization. But she wasn’t ready to hear his answer, not yet anyway.

“Tora?” she asked when one show ended. He had been helping her perfect her fighting moves earlier, both of them dripping with sweat by the time Poppy was able to squirm free from his solid grasp. Now she was sprawled across his chest, one of his long legs extended on the sofa and the other planted on the floor.

“Hm?” he answered, pressing his lips against her hair.

“Has Quincey asked about me?” Tora went still. “It just seems weird that he hasn’t tried to contact me, don’t you think? I mean, I thought he liked me…”

“Do you want him to like you?” Tora asked. Poppy lifted her head to meet his stony eyes, his jaw tightly clenched.

“No, that’s not what I meant…” she started and then faltered. “Of course I don’t want him to like me. I just thought it was weird that he asked me out on this big extravagant date and then didn’t even try to call me after I almost got killed.” Tora turned to stare at the TV, a vein bulging in his forehead. Poppy fumed. “Well it’s not like you don’t have other girls chasing after you! I’m sure you go out on dates!” Poppy didn’t know what she was saying; the very thought of Tora going out with someone else opened a whirlpool in her stomach, and what’s worse, she made it sound as if she _wanted_ Quincey to pursue her.

“Ugh!” she cried as she sat up and buried her wet face in her hands. She couldn’t bear to look at him. “I’m sorry, Tora. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just….I just feel so insecure around you sometimes. You’re so big and important and handsome and I don’t like the idea of sharing you.” Poppy felt Tora’s hands on her own as he drew them away from her face, his eyes soft.

“Poppy, you’re not sharing me with anyone,” he said. “I meant it when I said that you’re the only one.”

“Really?” she squeaked. Tora nodded.

“I want you, just you, exactly as you are.” Poppy thought she might dissolve into a puddle.

“I want you, too, Tora,” she said through her tears. Tora pulled her against his chest, his face lost in her hair.

“I’m sorry I got mad,” Tora whispered. “I guess Quincey’s right: I really am a Neanderthal sometimes.” Poppy giggled and cuddled closer to his body, trying to absorb his heat, his scent, his everything. His palm brushed up and down her back.

“There’s something I’ve been wonderin’…” Tora said slowly. Poppy stiffened. “Where did you learn all those dirty words?” Poppy blushed a ferocious magenta and pulled away from Tora’s chest, straightening her hair, refusing to meet his eye.

“What?” she stammered. “I, well, I mean…” She twisted her hands in her lap. Poppy hadn’t realized how many naughty words she had let slip in their lovemaking, her mind usually obliterated by the moment and Tora’s hands on her skin. Now the memories came back to her in pieces, her blush growing deeper as she remembered saying things like “pussy” and “fuck.” A mischievous hunger grew in Tora’s eyes; he loved watching her squirm.

“I guess I just got curious,” she finally said. “And so I watched some videos online…” Tora’s eyebrows ascended and Poppy scowled. She didn’t think she had ever felt so embarrassed in her whole life. “It’s not like I do it all the time! It’s just…Erdene is always talking about sex, and there’s always people on TV having sex, and they seem to like it. And then you came along with your muscles and your tattoos and your stupid face and I didn’t know what to do!” The words poured out of Poppy in one long breath, her chest rising in waves.

“Are you sayin’ you thought of me when you watched these videos?” Tora asked softly. Poppy burned with shame as she nodded. She would never be able to look at him again.

“Did you touch yourself when you thought of me?” Poppy’s head involuntarily sprang up, her gaze meeting his. “Did you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Something quick and dangerous flashed across Tora’s face.

“Show me,” he said. “Show me how you touched yourself.”


	14. Fourteen

**_In the middle of a world on a fishhook,_ **

**_You're the wave_ **

**_You're the wave_ **

**_You're the wave_ **

_Bush, "Swallowed"_

Fourteen

“W-what?” Poppy stuttered. “Right here?”

“Right here,” Tora answered, leaning into her. Poppy balked at the suggestion of doing something so private and lewd to herself in front of him, on complete and full display no less. No part of her would be obscured; there would be nowhere to hide. But if the last week had taught Poppy anything, it was that she liked the things her body could do, even if she would never admit it out loud. She was aroused by the idea of performing for Tora; it felt so frightening and new.

Poppy leaned back against one of the sofa’s pillows, her legs turned towards Tora, her knees spread wide. He studied her intently as he reclined at the opposite end, his eyes burning trails across her face, her chest, her thighs. She lifted her skirt slowly, pulling it up over her waist so that Tora could see the small hearts and rainbows dotting her underwear. He smiled, but only for a moment, watching as Poppy pushed her hand beneath her waistband, her face full of apprehension.

“No,” Tora said suddenly. Poppy’s heart raced. “Take off your panties.” His voice was husky and deep. Poppy stood and hooked her thumbs through the fabric, pulling them down and stepping out before sitting again. “Good girl.”

She couldn’t believe that she was letting him see her like this, but hadn’t he already seen all of her? Hadn’t he buried his face between her legs a dozen times, praising her, devouring her? Poppy tried to remember those moments as her knees separated again, the air cool against her heat. Tora groaned at the sweetness of her, at the way her creamy white skin contrasted with the brilliant pink of her clit. He licked his lips, his cock growing hard in his jeans.

Their eyes locked as Poppy began to rub circles around her tender nub, Tora’s ravenous expression making her wet. She started slow, almost teasing, before gaining momentum, tiny spasms dancing through her legs when she reached a certain spot. She trailed her hand further down and pushed inside of herself with two fingers, her head falling back in bliss. When she looked up again, Tora was massaging himself through his pants, his gaze glued to her pussy.

“Take out your tits,” he said softly. Poppy was too turned on to second guess the request. She lifted her shirt up to her neck and pulled down her purple bra, her breasts sitting on top of it like a shelf. A boldness bloomed in her, a lascivious desire to make Tora forget everything in the world but her. She locked eyes with him as she drew one breast to her mouth, sucking on the nipple, her other hand still working over her clit. Tora shuddered and groaned.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he tugged at his belt buckle, unzipping his jeans to pull out his cock. His hand worked lazily on his shaft, stroking in time with Poppy. They watched each other hungrily, Poppy’s hands quickening, her pussy making a wet click every time she thrust her fingers inside. She rolled her nipples, squeezing her breasts and letting out tiny, desperate whimpers that shot through Tora like electric shocks. He stroked faster and harder, his thumb running across his head.

“Poppy,” he choked. “Get over here. _Right. Now._ ” He sounded feral, Poppy staring for a moment before crawling across the sofa and climbing onto his lap. She took hold of his cock and ran it between her lips, spreading her wetness before slipping it into her, inch by inch. She had never been in this position, Tora’s face in her breasts, his mouth sucking greedily. She trembled and began to roll her hips, Tora moaning against her skin.

“Like this?” she asked.

“Yes, baby,” he breathed. “Just like that.”

She began to gently lift herself as she moved, Tora’s cock tickling her insides deeper and deeper every time she came back down. She could feel that delicious tension building, the room sparkling before falling away; she couldn’t remember anything but Tora beneath her, biting the curve of her neck. She wanted more of it, more of the escape, more of the feeling. She sped up, panting and desperate, when suddenly Tora grabbed her hips and held her in place. He pulled out of her, almost to his head, before driving himself back in, Poppy screaming. He did it over and over again, so quick that Poppy forgot how to breathe, his balls smacking against her. Static and thunder grew inside of her and exploded, her mind crumbling into small fragments of nothing. Tora grunted as he kept pounding, searching for his own release, Poppy limp and clinging. He came with a roar, pulling Poppy as close as she could get, his arms nearly squeezing the life from her.

Neither of them noticed that Tora had forgotten to wear a condom.

* * *

Poppy still felt delirious the next day as she drifted through the grocery store, all of her mundane routines now tinged with a rosy glow. She refused to let doubt cloud her mind, not after what Tora had said and done to her the night before. _He wouldn’t spend all this time with me unless he wanted to_ , she reminded herself, and nothing could convince her otherwise. She shoved negative thoughts of donors and gangs to the back of her mind, living only for the moment and the delightful buzz of her neighborhood.

She recounted her list in her head, reminding herself to write it down next time. _Pop-Tarts, eggs, broccoli, noodles._ She still wanted to cook for Tora but had no idea what he would like beyond endless piles of protein, always asking for double and triple orders of chicken whenever they ate out. _I guess that’s how he got so big_ , she thought. She spent a good 15 minutes talking to the store’s butcher, asking about different meats and how they would taste. They all seemed so bloody to her, so macabre, but the butcher insisted that any meat-eater would love steak. She took the wrapped bundle from him tentatively, sniffing the brown paper before placing it in her basket. _Well, he does need to stay strong._

Poppy walked towards the checkout when a sudden idea flitted across her brain. She turned down the chilly refrigerated aisle, past the humming doors, and found the gem-like rows of juice. She pulled the cold door open and reached for a large bottle of strawberry juice, her overflowing basket suddenly tipping and pulling her forward with it. She caught herself just in time, but the juice jumped from her small hands, hitting the tiled floor with a thud before rolling under the door. Poppy cursed and reached for the bottle, but a big hand grabbed it before she could.

Quincey stood before her with an easy smile, holding the bottle aloft.

“Strawberry juice?” he asked as he read the label. “I didn’t know you liked this stuff.”


	15. Fifteen

**_Where is this land_ **

**_We've built for us?_ **

**_Where are the streets_ **

**_We've built for us?_ **

_Yann Tiersen, "Summer 78"_

Fifteen

“Quincey,” Poppy said dumbly. “W-what are you doing here?”

“What, a guy can’t do a little shopping?” he asked with a shrug. Poppy stared at him. “OK, OK, I was just in the neighborhood and I happened to spot you, so I thought I’d stop and say hello.” Poppy furrowed her brow. _Why would someone like Quincey be in a neighborhood like this?_ Poppy wondered.

“Oh, well, that’s awfully sweet of you,” she said, balancing her basket on her hip.

“Here, let me get that for you,” he offered, grabbing the basket before she could protest. “In fact, why don’t you let me buy your groceries for you.”

“What?” Poppy was incredulous, standing awkward and cold in the middle of the aisle. “Quincey, no, you don’t need to do that.”

“I know I don’t _need_ to do it,” Quincey answered. “I _want_ to do it.” He looked regal in a grey suit and purple pocket square, a large diamond stud protruding from his earlobe. He stood out like a sore thumb, people cutting their eyes in his direction as they passed.

“Well _I_ don’t want you to,” Poppy said as she reached for the basket. Quincey pulled it away from her.

“Poppy, is this about me not calling you?”

“What?” She didn’t like the way he was toying with her, taunting her like a child with a ball. “No, Quincey, it’s not about that…” Truthfully, it was. She didn’t want Quincey as a boyfriend, but it wouldn’t have killed him to check in on her.

“Look, Pops, I’m sorry,” he said simply, as if they were discussing the weather. “That whole… _thing_ freaked me out, and I thought maybe I should keep my distance so you wouldn’t be in more danger.” His expression was soft but forced, his face molded like plastic. _You’re practically a mob boss,_ Poppy thought. _Shouldn’t you be used to this stuff?_

“Yeah, I guess those types of things don’t usually happen when your dad’s a banker,” she ventured, testing his defenses. Something flashed across his eyes but he recovered quickly. Did he know that Tora had told her the truth?

“You’re right,” he said carefully, “so you can understand why I was scared.”

“Well I was scared, too, Quincey,” she said defiantly. She didn’t know where her courage was coming from. Maybe Tora was rubbing off on her in more ways than one. “I was _really_ scared, especially after I got hurt.” Quincey’s eyes darted to her neck, the bruises almost gone.

“I know,” he replied. “And I am so sorry for that, Poppy. Can I make it up to you? Let me buy your groceries and your…strawberry juice.” Poppy let out a long sigh, suddenly very, very tired. She wanted to crawl into bed with Tora and sleep for a week, hidden away from Quincey and the world.

“It’s OK, Quincey,” she said in defeat. “I forgive you.” Quincey’s posture perked, his eyes beginning to sparkle, but he deflated when Poppy spoke again. “But I really don’t want you to buy my groceries for me.”

“Why?” he asked quietly, a gentle menace to his tone. It made Poppy’s skin crawl.

“Because then I will feel like I owe you something,” she admitted, scared to meet his eyes. “And I don’t want to owe anyone anything.” Poppy had spent her life in debt to others, not in physical ways but in emotional and mental ones, afraid to be herself, to ask for what she wanted, to defend her rights. She was sick of it.

“So I guess you don’t want me to take you to dinner, either?” Quincey asked through clenched teeth.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Quincey,” Poppy answered. She tried to wish herself away from that place, to be free from Quincey’s piercing gaze and the way he hovered over her. He stood stony and still for what felt like hours, a collection of emotions playing across his face. He settled on indifference.

“Fine,” he pouted, setting her basket on the ground with a thud. He took a step towards her as he held out the bottle of strawberry juice, his lips almost touching her hair. “But you shouldn’t drink this stuff,” he whispered. “It’s terrible for you.”

* * *

Poppy had nearly hyperventilated on her walk back to her apartment, racing through the streets, oblivious to the people she knocked into. She dumped her bags in her kitchen when she finally made it home, triple-checking the locks on her door. That hadn’t been Quincey back at the store, at least not the Quincey she knew; that was an imposter in Quincey’s skin, a dark, devilish being who breathed fire and power. Poppy’s heart banged around in her chest as she rushed to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, again and again until her cheeks felt like ice.

“What was that?” she said to herself in the mirror. She wanted to call Tora and tell him everything that had just transpired, every little detail, but something stopped her. Not fear of Tora, but fear of what he might do. But then Poppy realized that she didn’t know what he might do, not when Quincey was his boss. The amount of things she didn’t know about their world suddenly scared her and she hid her face in her hands to keep from crying. It didn’t work, the tears falling like fat dew drops. She sobbed harder when she remembered that Tora wouldn’t be able to come over tonight, not when Saturday was their busiest night. How had her perfect mood been so perfectly destroyed?

* * *

Tora was in a foul mood come Sunday, his Saturday spent in dark, musty underground nightclubs and makeshift casinos, surrounded by drug dealers and scantily-clad women. None of it interested him: not the gambling or the liquor, not the lines of coke or the girls who tried and failed to win his attention. And Quincey had been especially demanding, insisting that Tora be extra ruthless to anyone with even an ounce of debt, his eyes sharp and watchful as Tora broke fingers and bruised cheeks.

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” he asked Quincey as he smoked his millionth cigarette, his arm aching from just having held down a particularly squirmy attorney with a major coke problem. He was disgusted by his own smell, a mixture of sweat and ash. The strawberry juice he drank earlier left a sickly sweet taste in the back of his mouth.

“What? You’re not having fun?” Quincey asked innocently as he scanned the room. “I thought you liked this kind of stuff.” He leaned against the bar, his arms crossed over his fine suit.

“You think I like roughin’ people up?” Tora asked, his eyebrows raised. Quincey’s denseness never failed to amaze him. They looked at each other expectantly. “No, Quincey, I don’t like this kind of stuff.”

“Huh,” Quincey huffed in forced amusement. “Who would have thought that big bro Tora was a lover and not a fighter?” Tora scowled but said nothing. There wasn’t anything that Tora could do to change his situation and Quincey knew it. More than that, Quincey seemed to like it.

Tora was exhausted but relieved when Sunday afternoon came and he could finally drag himself over to Poppy’s, the image of her face the only thing propelling him forward. He didn’t think he even had the energy for sex, not until he slept for a solid 12 hours. Of course Poppy seemed to have other plans, springing towards him with glee when she let him in. She seemed to hold him tighter and longer than usual, as if she were afraid that he may disappear. Saturday night melted away from Tora; it was a new day and he was with Poppy.

“You OK?” he asked as he pulled back to look in her face. She gave him a small nod.

“I’m fine,” she said before standing on her toes to reach his lips. He smiled and leaned down to meet her the rest of the way, momentarily lost in the soapy sweetness of her.

“You’re dressed up,” he remarked as she separated from him and began to buzz around her apartment like a bee, dressed in a flowery yellow dress and orange cardigan. The place was spotless, as if she had spent all weekend scrubbing.

“I thought we’d go somewhere today,” she said quietly but cheerfully. She stopped to gauge Tora’s reaction. He was as unyielding as a statue, his face unreadable.

“Pops…” he started. “I’ve had a long night…”

“I know, I know!” she interrupted. “I promise we won’t be out long. It’s just that…I wanted to make you dinner, and there’s this farmer’s market down the street…” Tora’s exhaustion began to dissipate into a tired resignation. His throat sunk down to his stomach when Poppy turned her brown eyes up to him.

“You wanna make me dinner?” She nodded, fidgeting with the buttons on her sweater.

“Nothing super fancy, just some steak. We’ll only be gone for an hour, then you can come back here and sleep. I promise I won’t bother you. You’ve just been working so hard, and taking care of me, and I wanted to do something nice for you.” Tora didn’t know what people saw when they looked at him, but he figured it was something along the lines of monster, demon, savage. But when Poppy looked at him, he knew that she only saw one thing: Tora. He approached her slowly, running his hands up and down her arms as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Alright, kid,” he gave in. “Let’s go to this farmer’s market.”

* * *

A Sunday afternoon crowd is drastically different than a Saturday night crowd, especially Tora’s Saturday night crowd. The farmer’s market was full of smiling families and well-dressed old people, the faces punctuated by the tanned visages of those behind the booths. Mountains of ruby red tomatoes were stacked high beside crisp heads of lettuce and dense, dark potatoes. Women sold handmade soaps scented with lavender and rose, the smell of tea wafting from several different stalls. It was bright and hot, Tora following closely behind Poppy as she trekked purposefully through the madness. He scowled as people recoiled away from his size, a headache growing behind his eyes. _This was a mistake_ , he thought, desperate for a soft bed and a dark room. The only thing that kept him afloat was the look of wonder on Poppy’s face and the way she chatted easily with the people at each stop, gathering fresh onions and garlic and carrots that were almost cartoonish in size.

Towards the end of one row, Tora found a break in the mob and pulled Poppy into the opening. Poppy pressed a hand to his cheek in worry.

“I’m fine,” he said grumpily. “I just need a second away from all of these fuckin’ people.” Poppy frowned and reached down to squeeze his hand, waiting until he squeezed back.

“Wait here,” she said. “I just have one more stop and then we can go home.” Tora’s heart thundered at the way she said “home.” He nodded dully and watched her intently as she pushed back through the sea of people to a stall on the other side of the street.

Tora was used to constant vigilance, and so he scanned the crowd without thinking, searching for anything suspicious. He found nothing. There were only giggling children and plump, jolly grandmas; teenagers joking and splashing in a large fountain and dogs running in circles on the green; and perfect white clouds drifting overhead, birds singing high up in their trees. Tora didn’t know what he was doing there. He ran his hands through his hair and reached for his pack of cigarettes before stopping and cursing. He needed the day to end.

His eyes roamed back towards the booth Poppy had been visiting. She was standing in the middle of the street, her arms full, her face crinkled with worry. A dark-haired man – a boy, really – stood opposite her, his own face frowning and red. He was pointing at Poppy, one vicious finger too close to her for Tora’s liking, but she wasn’t backing down. She was nearly spitting towards him, her whole tiny body fuming. Tora’s muscles tensed and his eyes narrowed. He made it to Poppy in three long strides, just catching the last bit of her venomous words.

“…cheated on me!” she cried shrilly. “Just go away, Julri!” Julri? The name reverberated through Tora’s brain.

Tora wasn’t sure what happened next. He only remembered Poppy screaming as his fist connected with Julri’s nose.


	16. Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Brief mention of rape/sexual assault 
> 
> I feel like I'm spreading bad sex practices for the sake of this story, so PSA:  
> 1\. Your first time should NOT be extremely painful (for most people) if your partner knows what they're doing.  
> 2\. Always go to the bathroom after sex.  
> 3\. Use protection. 
> 
> Stay safe, kiddos!

**_Bring me to the fire,_ **

**_Throw me in the flames_ **

_Phantogram, "When I'm Small"_

Sixteen

“Tora, stop!” Poppy cried as she tugged at his arm with all her might, her vegetables tumbling to the ground. He growled, loud and ferocious like a bear, but stayed where he was, looming over Julri who lay shocked and bloody on the pavement. A wave of red gushed from his nose and cascaded down his shirt like a waterfall.

“What the fuck?!” Julri sounded as if he had a cold. He grasped his face in disbelief. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“I’m the guy who’s gonna break the rest of your fuckin’ face!” Tora threatened, taking a step towards him. Julri cowered, lucky for Poppy’s persistent grip.

“No you’re not!” she yelled, trying and failing to yank Tora back towards her. “Stop it, Tora! What’s wrong with you?!”

Tora spun on her with a scowl and she shrank away from him instinctively, dropping her hands. A fog cleared from his eyes when he saw Poppy’s expression. She was scared. Of him. She was the only person in all the world who could serve as an effective force field for him and he had frightened her. Tora looked around wildly at the people who had stopped to stare, mouths open, eyes judging. The day suddenly felt darker, the frenzied voices around him rumbling like thunder and pattering like rain.

“Poppy…” he started.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are,” Julri said from behind him, finally climbing to his feet. “But I’m pressing charges!” Tora turned and lunged at him, just enough to shut him up. Julri recoiled, falling against a few shocked bystanders.

“Let’s just go!” Poppy said as she stooped to gather her purchases. Tora stood above her dumbly, not knowing what to do, his hands opening and closing again. “ _Goodbye_ , Julri,” she said pointedly, her tone acidic. She grabbed Tora’s arm and pulled him through the crowd, letting go once they were through.

They walked home in silence, both fuming, both stomping their feet. Tora was lost in his own rage and confusion, trying to understand what had just happened and why Poppy had been so quick to defend her ex. He knew she didn’t still care for him, she couldn’t, but then what was going on? Was she ashamed of Tora? Was she terrified of him now that she had witnessed his lack of self-control? Tora masked his embarrassment with a thin veil of anger and hurt.

“What the hell was that?” Poppy turned on Tora when they got back to her apartment, her groceries forgotten on the floor. Tora had never seen her so upset, her eyes glimmering with tears.

“ _What?_ ” Tora was incredulous. “What the hell do you think it was?”

“I think it was you being an asshole!” she screamed. Tora balked.

“ _I’m_ the asshole?! After what that guy did to you?”

“Yes, _you’re_ the asshole!” Poppy’s voice cracked, her fists clenched at her sides. “You don’t get to decide how I deal with that! And you don’t get to go around hurting people just because you don’t like them!”

“Don’t like them?!” Tora roared. “Poppy, he practically fucking raped you!” Poppy flinched and Tora’s stomach turned. Sweat crawled down his chest and back, his fingers tingling. He wanted to punch something; he wanted to punch himself. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m just gonna let him walk away in one piece.”

“I’m so sick of men scaring me!” Poppy cried, her voice shaking and mad. “You and Julri and Quincey at the grocery store…”

“The grocery store?” Tora stopped her, his fervor subsiding. “Wait, did Quincey talk to you? Did something happen?”

“Just forget it!” Poppy interrupted. “Why do you guys always have to be so violent and mean?!”

“Poppy…”

“Don’t you understand what it does to other people?!”

“Poppy, wait…”

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST BE NORMAL?!” she shrieked. Tora stilled, his heart stuttering like a jackhammer. The word burned his skin as if she had slapped him.

“Normal?” he asked softly, his eyes dark.

“Yes, normal!” Poppy didn’t seem to realize what she had said until she noticed Tora standing completely motionless, his gaze trained on her face.

“You’re right,” he rasped. “I’m not fuckin’ normal.”

“Tora, I didn’t mean…” she started. He quickly cut her off.

“I get it,” he said as he walked towards the door and yanked it open. “I fuckin’ get it.” He slammed it behind him, the whole apartment shaking like an earthquake.

* * *

Tora drove in no particular direction; he only knew that he drove fast, burning through cigarettes as if they were his own breath. He blared music and then shut it off again with a vicious swipe, not knowing if he wanted deafening noise or deafening silence. Every part of him pulsed, Poppy’s words circling his brain. He had felt safe with her, like a human being and not some animal in a cage. But apparently she saw him the same way everyone saw him: untamable, untrainable, a body made for pain and nothing else. Tora had hoped stupidly, desperately, that some of Poppy’s goodness would rub off on him, but the opposite had happened, some of his filth rubbing off on her instead. His very presence defiled her.

Tora needed to hit something, something that wouldn’t whine and bleed. He drove the familiar route to the old boxing gym across town, the one he had frequented since his teens. The place was dank and unloved, the lead paint chipping off the walls, the air hot with testosterone. Pounds and thuds echoed from every direction, men sparring in the center ring and attacking punching bags around the perimeter. Tora didn’t acknowledge anyone, even as he drifted past faces he knew. He found a free bag and peeled off his shirt, throwing it to the floor with his phone before wrapping his hands until they ached.

The punches came hard and fast, radiating out of him with cosmic power. Every hook was accompanied by a frustrated grunt, the bag morphing into a myriad of faces. Quincey, Balthuman, Julri. He hit them all, again and again, until he was sure his knuckles were bleeding. He kept going, inciting imaginary bruises and scars; he saw corpses and bullets, destruction and death. There was a child locked in a cage, crying and defiant, people hovering above him. They were all better than him. All of them.

“Tora?”

He would never be enough.

“Big bro Tora?”

He could never keep Poppy safe.

“Ugh, Tora?”

He was nothing but a common thug.

“Hey Tora!”

“WHAT?!” he bellowed, spinning around, his face deranged, his whole body numb. It was the gym owner’s son Louis, a pudgy and shy teenager who had always been fascinated with Tora, following him around like a puppy.

“Are you OK?” Louis twisted his fingers, keeping a safe distance from Tora.

“I’m fine, Louis,” he huffed, suddenly realizing that he was winded. He put his hands on his head, his long body pulling taut.

“Your, um, your phone’s been dingin’ like crazy.” Tora caught his breath before answering, the two staring awkwardly. _Probably fuckin’ Quincey_ , Tora thought.

“Thanks, Louis,” Tora finally said, leaning down to grab his cell. Louis gave a small, apprehensive smile before scooting off with a wave, his face still awestruck. Tora frowned as he looked at his screen: 10 new texts, all from Poppy.

_Can you come over?_

_Please? I want to talk._

_Tora? Are you ignoring me?_

_I need you to come over._

_I have to tell you something important._

_Will you please come over right away?_

_Tora? This is important._

_Please stop ignoring me._

_Tora?_

_Tora?_

Tora gripped the phone tightly. It wasn’t like Poppy to send so many texts, but of course they had never had a fight before and so it was uncharted territory for both of them. Part of him wanted to pout over the fact that she hadn’t apologized, but a bigger part of him wanted to sprint back to her apartment, to hold her in his arms and try to salvage what he could of their relationship. He didn’t know who he was anymore or which thoughts were real. He felt dizzy from all of the ups-and-downs.

 _Gimme half an hour_ , he texted her. The reply came almost instantly.

_Hurry._

* * *

Tora showered quickly at the gym, trying to remember the last time he had been clean and well-rested. He sped to Poppy’s as if he were in a race, her last message nagging at the back of his mind: _Hurry._ Her building looked the same as when he had left and Tora didn’t know why he had been expecting any different. Her door was unlocked, the living room and kitchen empty when he let himself inside.

“Poppy?” he called. The hairs on the back of his neck danced.

“Tora?” her voice came softly from the bedroom. “I’m in here.” The air was quiet and still as Tora walked towards her room, one hand on the gun in his waistband.

“You OK?” he asked, stopping to hear her reply.

“I’m fine,” she answered, sounding strained. “Can you just please come in here?” Tora took the final few steps towards the room, slowly pushing the door open with one hand.

Poppy sat on the corner of the bed, her hands bound behind her back, a bruise growing beneath one eye. Goro stood behind her, smiling, his gun pressed to her head.


	17. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bloodshed and sexual assault

**_Burn the streets_ **

**_Burn the cars_ **

**_Pa pa power, Pa pa power_ **

_Dead Man's Bones, "Pa Pa Power"_

Seventeen

The world had turned gauzy, Poppy’s head full of cotton, her ear still ringing from where she had been hit. Her heart was a machine gun in her chest, her skin hot and dripping. She didn’t know if she was feeling too much or too little. Tora stood in the doorway for a mere millisecond before his gaze locked on her and he lunged into the room, his arm twisted behind him.

“Whoa, whoa!” Goro cried, pressing the muzzle of his gun into Poppy’s temple. Tora stopped, one foot in front of the other, his whole body frozen except for his face, his eyes refusing to leave Poppy’s. His jaw jutted out at a sharp angle, the muscles in his neck bulging.

“Look at me, big guy,” Goro said lightly. Tora dragged his attention from Poppy slowly, his expression turning electric and hungry as he looked at Goro. “We’re gonna go real slow here. I’m gonna need you to take out that piece of yours without tryin’ anything fancy. I think you know what happens if you do.” He shoved his gun harder against Poppy to make his point, her head tilting violently to the side. Tora growled.

“I know, I know,” Goro went on. “I would hate to ruin such a pretty face, too! So like I said, nice and slow.” Poppy’s whole body ached as she watched Tora pull his gun free, liquid smooth, and hold it up in the air. His glare practically chewed through Goro’s skin. She wanted to cry out to Tora, to tell him to run and save himself, but she knew as well as he did that he wouldn’t leave, couldn’t leave, even if he wanted to.

“Take out the magazine,” Goro ordered, waiting for Tora to remove the chamber from his gun. “Throw the magazine over here, on the bed.” Tora tossed it easily, Poppy feeling the soft bounce behind her.

“Throw the piece into the bathroom.” Goro gestured with his chin to the opposite side of the room and Tora obeyed, the muzzle hitting the tile floor with a metallic thud.

“You got anything else on you?” Tora lifted his shirt and Poppy realized that he had done this routine before. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Goro asked, grabbing a fistful of Poppy’s hair and yanking her head back towards him. The pain seared through her already tender scalp.

“NO.” Tora said through clenched teeth, thunder roiling at the back of his throat. Goro hesitated before releasing Poppy with a smile, patting her shoulder as if to console her.

“Good!” he said cheerfully before looking Tora up and down. “Man, you _are_ a big motherfucker. How tall are you? 6’4? 6’5?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Tora asked flatly, his forearms flexing. His tone nearly froze Poppy’s spine. She trusted Tora, she knew he was powerful, but she didn’t see any way out of this situation, not with this pig sweating down her back.

“Me?” Goro asked with a hand to his chest. “I’m just your common low-level thug. I go where I’m told, do what I’m told, try to stay in line.” His eyes trailed over the curve of Poppy’s neck, down the neck of her dress. “Although I do get tempted sometimes…”

“What the fuck do you want?” Tora seethed, following Goro’s lecherous trajectory.

“I want what we all want,” Goro said simply, sitting down on the bed behind Poppy. She rolled away from the dip he made in the mattress but he snaked one meaty arm beneath her breasts, pulling him close to her. His breath tickled her ear. “Get paid, maybe have a little fun…”

 _“Get your hands off of her,”_ Tora breathed. Goro had enough sense to blanch at the menace in Tora’s voice, but only for a moment.

“Not the sharing type?” Goro asked innocently, the gun still pressed to Poppy’s head. He trailed his other hand up to Poppy’s breasts, grabbing one roughly as he watched Tora’s face. Poppy shut her eyes tight, trying not to wince, but a pathetic mewl slipped from her mouth. When her lids parted, it wasn’t Tora who stood before her, but rather some panting, frothing demon in Tora’s skin.

“I’m gonna tear your fuckin’ throat out,” Tora said softly. It wasn’t a threat – it was a promise. Poppy tried to squirm away but Goro gripped her harder.

“They did say you were a wild fuckin’ animal,” Goro answered, appraising Tora. Poppy thought she heard fear in his forced poise. “Is that how she likes to be fucked? Like a wild animal?” He pressed his nose against Poppy’s hair and she nearly screamed. Seeing Tora’s rage ignited something in her.

“Get off of me!” she fumed, Goro shaking the bed with his laughter.

“Ooh, see, this one’s special,” he beamed. “She doesn’t take it lyin’ down. Or do you, sweetheart?” He shook Poppy like a doll. “I like that in a girl, although sometimes you have to remind them who’s in charge. That’s how she got this shiner here. Can you believe the bitch tried to bite me?!” Poppy had stood frozen with fear when Goro came crashing through her unlocked door, her senses fleeing only to return to her in bits and pieces. She tried to remember Tora’s training as she cowered in the living room, punching and kicking, her teeth snapping within an inch of Goro’s cheek. The world had gone momentarily black when he punched her.

“You’re gonna pay for that one, too,” Tora whispered, his eyes tracing the welt on Poppy’s face.

“I’m sure I will,” Goro said, seemingly unworried. “But for the time being, we really should be going.” He stood suddenly, wrapping his hand around the back of Poppy’s neck and pulling her up with him. She stumbled, her balance thrown off by the zip-tie around her wrists. Tora was immovable, blocking the door, Poppy unsure if he was human or stone.

“I’m gonna untie the princess here and she’s gonna give you a nice pair of bracelets,” Goro’s voice was almost sweet, his demeanor more babysitter than mobster. “And then we’re all gonna go on a fun little fieldtrip.” He pressed his gun into Poppy’s back, his free hand reaching around to run a sickening trail up her thigh, his fingers disappearing beneath her skirt to paw at her panties. “Isn’t that right, princess?” he whispered in her ear.

Poppy thought of all the things that she wanted to happen in that moment. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry; she wanted Tora to slit this man’s throat, to watch him bleed out on her bedroom floor; she wanted to go back in time, to when she was a simple girl in a simple place with a simple life. But of course she couldn’t do any of that, not just because it wasn’t possible, but because she couldn’t leave Tora behind. So she stopped thinking about what she couldn’t do, just for a second, and focused on what she could do.

Poppy pulled her head forward and then quickly reared it back, her skull connecting with Goro’s teeth with a sickening crack. He yelped and released her, clutching at his mouth, and Poppy spun, planting one foot between his legs. She lost her balance, landing hard on her shoulder, and tried to squirm away from Goro’s searching grip, his face brutalized as he lunged towards her with a howl. And then Tora was there, his big boot smashing into Goro’s nose, blood arching across the room. Poppy dragged herself to the nearest corner and watched as Tora straddled the man and struck him with violent, wild punches, again and again, the carpet around them growing red. Poppy wanted to cover her ears, to stop herself from hearing the gruesome smack and crunch, the man’s face disintegrating into a mere pulp. But she could only stare, her chest heaving.

“Tora,” she said faintly. He didn’t stop, his face splattered like war paint.

“Tora!” she screamed it this time. Tora stopped with a jolt, one fist still raised, his eyes flashing as if he were waking from a dream. His expression cleared when he saw Poppy shaking in the corner. He was to her in a second, his big hands cupping her cheeks as he searched her face. He grasped the plastic around her wrists and tugged, his muscles straining, until it broke with a snap.

“Poppy,” he whispered endlessly. “Poppy. Poppy. Poppy.”

“I’m OK,” she said, clinging to his wet shirt, her forehead pressed to his. “I’m OK.”

“I’m sorry.” Tora’s voice cracked, one tear pulling a clean line down his bloody face. “I’m so sorry.”


	18. Eighteen

**_I used to be free_ **

**_I used to be seventeen_ **

_Sharon Van Etten, "Seventeen"_

Eighteen

Poppy spent the better part of an hour wiping the blood from Tora’s face, neck, and arms, his big body hunched and shivering as he sat at her kitchen table. She didn’t know where her resolve had come from; she didn’t know where any of it had come from, not the strength nor the softness nor the way she could so easily forget, just for the time being, that there was a corpse on her bedroom floor. She could have chalked it up to her survival instinct, or to the way some people are able to compartmentalize in the midst of trauma. But she didn’t even have time to wonder or analyze – she only had time for Tora, who sat dumb and silent like a frightened child.

“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he mumbled. “You shouldn’t have seen any of that.”

“Shh,” she cooed, working at the last bit of dried blood. Tora’s skin was still flushed, his eyes staring at something Poppy couldn’t see.

“That sonofabitch,” he muttered. “Poppy, if I had stayed…if I had just stayed…” He began to shake his head but Poppy grabbed his face, waiting for him to look at her.

“I’m OK,” she insisted. “Look at me – I’m OK.”

“No, you’re not,” Tora choked, his voice hoarse. “You think you’re OK now, but you’re not. I know how these things work. It stays with you. All of it. _Forever_.” Poppy searched his eyes, trying to read his story in their depths. He was so full of hurt; so fluent in a language that she couldn’t speak but desperately wanted to learn.

“It’s not your fault,” she said, pulling his head to her chest. “You didn’t tell that man to come here. You didn’t tell him to do those things.” Tora gripped her arms hard, but only for a second before rising to his feet. He began to pace around the apartment, his hands in his hair. He lit a cigarette and smoked it frantically, Poppy holding her tongue.

“No,” he said finally. “But he came here because of me.”

“How do you know that?” Poppy asked softly. Her head began to throb, her eye and cheek tender. Had the pain been there all along? Was the shock wearing off?

“Because this isn’t your fuckin’ life, Poppy!” Tora yelled. Poppy watched and waited. “How many dead people did you see before you met me? How many times did some fuckin’ piece-of-shit thug put his hands on you before you met me? How many bruises did you get, huh?!” Tora was livid, more out of control than Poppy had ever seen him. He was always impassable, always so hard to decipher, but this had caught a fraying thread somewhere deep inside, part of him unraveling.

“I’m the worst thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to you, Poppy,” he said as he stopped to look at her. “We…we can’t do this anymore.”

The world was returning to Poppy rapidly. She could hear the cars honking in the dark streets and the wheeze of Tora’s breath. She could smell the smoke and the blood; she could nearly taste the penny-brightness of it. Her wrists were raw from the zip-tie and she was certain that she would have bruises on her breasts and face for weeks. She was tired and hungry and scared.

“No,” she said simply.

“No?” Tora repeated, his brow furrowing.

“I don’t accept that.” Her palms began to sweat.

“Poppy, it’s not your fuckin’ choice,” Tora said harshly. She narrowed her eyes.

“It _is_ my fucking choice! And this _is_ my fucking life!” She walked over to him, shoulders squared, jaw thrust forward in frustration, her gaze unfaltering as she craned her neck to see his face.

“Poppy, you’re just a stupid kid,” Tora whispered. Poppy remained unimpressed.

“Stop it, you big brute!” she yelled up at him. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to convince both of us that you don’t care about me. You think it’ll make things easier.” Poppy was amazed at herself, at the conviction and wisdom in her own words. She knew that she wasn’t a stupid kid and so did Tora.

“Even if I did care about you,” Tora started, his tone unconvincing, “there’s not a chance in Hell you could ever be with someone like me. It’s a fuckin’ fantasy.”

“Stop it!” Poppy went on, trying to pull him from his misery. “You think you’re some big monster, but you’re not, Tora. Guys like that are the monsters.” She pointed towards her bedroom. “Guys like the ones at the restaurant are the monsters. You’ve never done anything but try to protect me from them. You’re not the monster – you’re the _slayer_.”

“You don’t know that, Poppy,” Tora said through his teeth. “You don’t know the things I’ve done.”

“You’re right,” she admitted, “I don’t. And frankly I don’t need to know them, because if you were such an awful person, you wouldn’t beat yourself up over it like you do.” Tora’s mouth opened and closed and then opened again, his cigarette wafting forgotten in his hand. His eyes were lined with tears, the image slowly breaking Poppy’s composure.

“I can’t watch you get hurt again,” Tora breathed. “I can’t be the reason for it. I can’t. I won’t.” Poppy lifted a hand to his cheek and he leaned into her touch, slowly closing his eyes.

“We’re a team, Tora,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t have stopped that guy on my own and you couldn’t have, either, not without my help. We need each other.” She caught a stray tear with her thumb. “We’re in this together.” Tora’s eyes were slick and golden when they opened.

“God I really wanna kiss you right now,” he whispered. Poppy gave him a small smile.

“Then kiss me, you big idiot.”

* * *

Tora reverted to a calm and collected business mode after that, making various covert phone calls that Poppy couldn’t hear. He had told her to pack, lightly and quickly, and Poppy had balked at the suggestion, but only for a moment. She loved her apartment in the city, but she knew that it no longer belonged to her; it belonged to the things that had happened inside of it, to the horror and the bloodshed. She didn’t want to stay, even if she could.

Tora had rolled the large corpse into one of Poppy’s rugs to spare her the sight of seeing it, but she couldn’t ignore the way the makeshift body bag bulged as she passed it on the way to her bathroom. _That could have been me_ , she thought. _I could have died tonight._ She wouldn’t allow herself to ruminate on the possibilities, not until she was somewhere safe.

She grabbed her overnight bag and gathered her necessities, cramming them inside: toothbrush, hairbrush, face wash; underwear, jeans, camisoles, and sweaters. She snatched her favorite photos off the walls and shelves and carefully placed them in her favorite notebook. At her nightstand, her hand hovered over the lacquered box that Quincey had given her, the diamond earring sitting inside. She moved past it and opened the nightstand’s drawer, pulling out the note Tora had written the day he slipped her the stack of money. She fished the brick of bills out from under her mattress, tucking it deep down in the bag with the note. As she walked out into the living room, she spotted her oversized Totoro, grabbing it by the ear and shoving it on top of the bag’s other contents, the smiling face peeking out of the zipper.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Tora said when he saw the stuffed animal. Poppy crossed her arms defiantly.

“I’m not leaving without him.” Tora arched an eyebrow.

“You’re somethin’ else, kid,” he said. Poppy would have stuck her tongue out at him had she been in a more playful mood.

“What about you?” she asked, gesturing towards his shirt and pants. They were black with blood.

“I’ve always got spares in the car,” Tora answered absently. “Comes with the territory.” Poppy flushed at the thought of him stripping naked in his car.

“You ready?” Tora asked. Poppy took one last look around her home.

“I’m ready.”

* * *

It was late but Tora drove them to a part of town that was still alive with the pleasant hum of business. The buildings were cramped and close, most of the walls warped by the steam from so many nearby kitchens. Neon signs glowed like candy, restaurant windows dewy with condensation. Men stood in doorways smoking cigarettes and pipes, a few old women perched on narrow second floor balconies, lazily studying people as they passed by. 

“Where are we going?” Poppy asked Tora, clinging to his arm so they wouldn’t get separated, as if he would be hard to find.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered. The air smelled like pork and vegetables and Poppy’s stomach grumbled, so loud that she was sure Tora could hear it.

They turned down a less crowded street, the stores and eateries more spread out here. Tora lead them to a small tea shop, no bigger than Poppy’s bedroom, a bell tinkling above the door as they walked in. Smoke hung like a phantom in the air, an old man puffing on a pipe near the front window. He looked Tora and Poppy up and down and then quickly lost interest, returning his attention to the street. The shop’s walls were lined with dozens of shelves, each holding jars full of tea leaves. The smell overwhelmed Poppy in the best possible way. A middle-aged woman in an apron emerged from the back of the shop, her hands on her hips.

“Can I help…” she stopped when Tora spun towards her. “ _Tora?”_

“Hi Sara,” Tora said quietly. The woman’s face broke into a wry smile.

“Look at you,” she marveled, giving him the once-over. “I always knew you would be a big sonofabitch.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hearin’ that a lot lately,” Tora said. Poppy stood awkwardly behind him, not knowing where to look.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” Sara said, nodding proudly. “These streets can be a fuckin’ nightmare.” She drew a pack of cigarettes from her apron pocket and lit one with a gold lighter. “But I have to ask: why are you here?” Poppy studied the woman’s face. Her eyes were young and watchful, but her skin was deeply creased, her hair a frizzy quilt of brown and grey.

“We need your help,” Tora answered, his eyes darting in the direction of the old man. “We need a place to stay.” Sara looked at Poppy then.

“Are you in trouble?” she asked, turning her attention back to Tora. “Did you knock her up?” Sara pointed at Poppy with her cigarette.

“What?! No!” Tora said, instinctively reaching a hand back towards Poppy. She gladly took it.

“Because I’m not about to have some pissed off dad comin’ in here with a shotgun…” Sara rambled.

“Sara, it’s nothin’ like that,” Tora interrupted. His face softened just a fraction, enough to stall Sara’s tirade. “We just need somewhere to lay low. Just for a few days.” Sara’s eyes traveled back and forth between Tora and Poppy’s faces, her mouth hung open as if she were calculating a math problem in her head. Poppy willed her to say yes, if only to give them somewhere to finally collapse for just one night. The exhaustion ached in Poppy like a sickness.

“OK,” Sara eventually said, stubbing out her cigarette in an ashtray. “But only for a few days. My brother’s comin’ at the end of the month.” She turned and hooked an arm behind her, receding back down the hall she had emerged from. “Follow me.”

The hall was almost too narrow for Tora to fit through, the staircase even worse, his shoulders so wide that he had to walk up the small steps at a sharp angle. Sara laughed at his awkwardness and a darkness lifted in Poppy. There was something warm about the older woman, about the way she laid a hand on Tora’s arm, about the way she took Poppy’s bag and shooed her away when she began to protest. Sara seemed to take to caring for people naturally, and Poppy and Tora both needed to be taken care of, at least for tonight.

Sara’s spare room was small but well-kept, the dresser and nightstand solid and clean, the quilt on the bed worn to a downy softness. The smell of the tea leaves drifted up from downstairs, the single window overlooking an alley so that the room was peaceful and quiet. Sara laid two towels on the bathroom sink before turning to leave.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“YES!” Poppy and Tora both shouted in unison. Sara laughed.

“Alright, alright,” she called as she headed towards the stairs. “Hold your horses.”

She returned a few minutes later with two thick bowls of steaming stew. Poppy didn’t care what was in the stew and she didn’t care that the first few bites burnt her lips and tongue. She could do little more than inhale it, eating through half of the contents before taking a breath. When she looked up, Tora was completely finished with his, the bowl tipped to his lips as he drank the last bit from the bottom.

“Don’t be such an animal!” Sara scolded, tearing the bowl from him. “I’ll getcha more. Jesus Christ, I forgot how much you can eat.” She brought back two more bowls for Tora, and two big slices of bread for them to share. The bread was tough but tasted sweet as pie to Poppy, crumbs decorating the front of her shirt.

“Who would have thought microwaved stew and old bread could be so good?” Sara laughed as she watched them eat. Poppy wanted to ask Sara a million questions, to learn who she was and what role she had played in Tora’s life. She wanted to know what Tora was like as a boy, and what had happened to make him the way that he was. But she knew that those were subjects for another time and another place.

When they finished eating, Sara left them and returned to her kitchen, taking all of the light and sound with her. The room was suddenly too quiet for Poppy, her eyes drifting around her in a subtle paranoia. She twisted her fingers and looked at Tora, who stood motionless on the other side of the bed, his eyes trained on her face.

“Are you sure we’re safe?” she asked. Tora’s eyes glittered in the dim light.

“I’m sure,” he said with a nod. Something nagged at the back of Poppy’s mind but she didn’t know if she should say it. “Tell me, kid,” Tora said, seeing right through her. “What is it?”

“Why…” she started. “Why here? Why not…somewhere else?”

“You mean why not somewhere with Quincey?” Poppy began to shake her head but Tora stopped her. “It’s OK, Pops. I’m not mad. I get it.”

“You’re just so close with him, aren’t you? And doesn’t he have lots of space? And lots of men?” Poppy didn’t want to see Quincey, didn’t even want to think about him, but she had to wonder why Tora hadn’t taken her to some heavily guarded mob compound instead of an extra bedroom above a tea shop.

“I just think this is better for everyone right now,” Tora answered. Poppy thought to keep asking questions, to keep prying and picking away, but she knew that they had both faced more than enough for one day. She was ready to collapse into a long oblivion of sleep, and she could tell from Tora’s face that he was, too.

“Tora?” she asked.

“Hm?” A trace of annoyance shot across his face, dissipating with her next question.

“Will you…will you hold me?” A geyser opened in Poppy and the tears fell hard, her face soaked. Tora was by her side before she saw him move, pulling her tight against his chest. She felt like she was floating as he drew her down onto the bed, her body racked with sobs, Tora’s hand rubbing small circles over her back. They fell asleep that way, fully clothed, above the sheets, pressed so close that they appeared as one.


	19. Nineteen

**_In an ocean of noise_ **

**_I first heard your voice_ **

**_Now who here among us_ **

**_Still believes in choice?_ **

_Arcade Fire, "Ocean of Noise"_

Nineteen

Tora woke with Poppy’s lips against his neck, morning just beginning to soften the edges of night outside the window. Her eyes were large and searching in the dim light, her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice sparse. “Please. I can’t get the feeling of him off of me.” Her words ignited a deep anguish inside of Tora; his heart ached for the smallness of her, for the innocence and the beauty and all of the things that had been lost.

“It’s OK,” he said softly, holding Poppy’s face. “I’m right here.” He fit his lips to hers and waited for her to open to him, slow like a flower. His tongue slipped inside and he twisted and lapped, the movement echoing all of the things he was going to do.

Tora took his time to undress Poppy, his mouth touching every newly exposed inch. He left a wet trail between the valley of her breasts, his tongue tracing the shape of her nipples. He suckled gently as his fingers found her supple clit, rubbing in tight circles until Poppy began to whimper his name. His cock pressed against his jeans, every ounce of him desperate to taste her. Poppy reached down and cupped him boldly, their eyes locking. Tora stayed still, waiting for her to make the next decision. Whatever she wanted, however she wanted it, he would give it to her.

Poppy pressed her hand against Tora’s chest, pushing him off of her and flat onto his back. She pawed at his shirt and he slipped it off, her nimble fingers working at his fly. His cock sprang free and she enveloped it in the soft cave of her mouth, her hand pumping the shaft. She worked methodically, the suction filling the air with a wet sucking sound that drove Tora towards insanity. She cradled his balls lightly and he momentarily forgot his name.

When the reverie broke, Tora reached for Poppy’s butt, her body at an angle across the bed so that it was close to him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her over his face, her thighs straddling his head. Poppy let out a small yelp of surprise, unsure of what Tora was doing until he pressed the flat of his tongue against her pussy, licking her in one long stroke from her clit to her ass. Poppy’s eyes fluttered closed, her hand still stroking his cock. She sucked it into her mouth again and they began to devour each other, Tora licking and slurping, the tip of his tongue darting in and out of her holes.

Poppy suddenly sat up, pressing herself further down onto Tora’s face, gyrating her hips against him. His fingers dug into her thighs and he moaned, the sound shooting through Poppy to her core. Tora could tell that she was trying not to make too much noise, the pleasure escaping her in tiny, helpless gasps. His face was drenched in darkness and moisture and heat, her taste like salty honey.

The cool air shocked Tora’s skin when Poppy climbed off, her hand frantically reaching for his cock.

“Now,” she begged, standing over him. “I need you now.” Poppy lowered herself onto him, her pussy swallowing every bit until they were joined. Tora couldn’t see straight or think straight – he could only focus on Poppy and the way she began to ride him, shy and slow at first until their eyes met and he clutched at her thighs with a nod. She went faster, their skin smacking together, her breasts bouncing. It wasn’t enough, not for Tora, and from the look on her face, not for Poppy either. There was still fear there, lurking behind the ecstasy.

Tora flipped them over so quickly that Poppy could only look at him in a daze before he pressed into her once, hard, and her expression broke into a sweet blend of pleasure and pain. He lifted one of her legs up against his chest, his cock so deep that he thought he might drown in the ocean of her. Sweat beaded on Poppy’s forehead, rolling down into her hair.

“Harder,” she said, and Tora obeyed with a solid thrust. “Faster,” she breathed.

Tora began to pound into her, his hips undulating, rapid and strong like a jackhammer. The whole bed shook, Poppy’s eyes closing and opening and then closing again, her lip turning red from where she bit it to stay quiet. Her body began to convulse, her arms flailing as they searched for something to hold onto. Tora grabbed them and wrapped them around his shoulders, gripping the back of Poppy’s head to pull her closer to him.

“Open your eyes,” he said. “Look at me, Poppy.” Her lashes fluttered and her eyes opened, her mouth gaping. Tora pressed his forehead against hers and gazed at her, unblinking, trying to penetrate her layers of hurt. Her pupils dilated, her retinas flaring a brilliant, earthy brown, and she screamed, her pussy clenching around Tora like a vice. The pull was nearly unbearable, Poppy’s whole body shuddering around him, tugging him further towards his release. He pulled out just in time, pumping his cock with his hand until the cum spurted onto Poppy’s heaving stomach.

Tora crawled up Poppy’s body and searched her face, unsure of what he was looking for. Salvation? Disappointment? Her lips were curled in a small, contented smile, her eyelids heavy. She pressed a hand to his feverish cheek and Tora turned to kiss her palm.

“Thank you,” she said, Tora’s heart seizing in his chest before starting again.

“Anytime,” he answered. He had meant for the word to sound playful and light, but it came out of him with a sort of reverence, like a holy promise. Anytime. Anywhere. Anything.

* * *

Tora let Poppy sleep for as long as she could, the daylight draping over her like a warm blanket. He watched her intently for he didn’t know how long, trying to find any vestiges of her trauma. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy to forget, not for either of them. But for now Poppy seemed at peace, somewhere far away in her sparkling dreams.

Down in the alley behind Sara’s place, Tora could barely hear the bustle from the street. He chain-smoked and lazily watched a stray cat as it traipsed past and stopped to pick at an overturned garbage can. A million thoughts raced through Tora’s head, each one more jumbled than the last, until a pain began to grow in his temples. He was in Poppy’s room again, turning that corner to see her sitting on the bed, bruised and bound, the thug’s face leering above her like the Cheshire Cat. His brain inadvertently turned towards the what-ifs and the almosts, playing out every scenario like a movie. What if he hadn’t come? What if he hadn’t been able to save Poppy? What if that thug had pulled the trigger? Tora saw Poppy’s head explode in his mind and he physically recoiled, hunching over in the alley as if he would puke.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he spat, willing the image away. He had never had to experience the terror of trying to protect someone that he cared for so deeply. Even Quincey, who had been like a brother to him, paled in comparison to the space that Poppy consumed in Tora’s heart. The vulnerability scared him until he began to shake.

“Get it together,” he said to himself. “Fuckin’ focus.”

 _The thug in Poppy’s apartment_ , Tora thought. _Who the fuck was he?_ Tora believed he knew everyone who was involved with organized crime in Narin City, but this man had been a stranger to him. Even his tattoos, which covered nearly inch of him, were foreign to Tora, none of them ringing of any sort of affiliation. Did he have something to do with the men in the restaurant? Quincey said he had put Smithy to work on that, but so far Tora had heard nothing more, and he had been too preoccupied with everything else to ask.

 _Quincey_. The name seared Tora’s brain. Poppy had said something about Quincey scaring her at the grocery store, the words like a puzzle that didn’t fit. Why would Quincey be in Poppy’s neighborhood, and why would he want to scare her? Quincey hadn’t said a single thing about Poppy to him since their fight in Tora’s apartment. In fact, Quincey had seemed to move on quite rapidly, disappearing with more than one escort on Saturday night, reemerging an hour later smelling of liquor and perfume. Tora had been glad for the sight, finally able to extinguish the possibility of Quincey and Poppy as a couple from his head. But something still felt off…

Tora took his phone from his pocket and hit a familiar name on the speed dial, the line buzzing once before somewhere answered.

“Boss?” Ronzo sounded groggy, as if he had just woken up. “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

“You clear the apartment?” Tora asked. The thug’s body had been heavy, especially after Tora wrapped it in a rug.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ cleared the apartment,” Ronzo answered. “Sonofabitch weighed a ton. Who the fuck was that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tora said, his eyes darting around the alley. “And the blood?”

“Look, you did a fuckin’ number on this guy, boss. It’s gonna take me a while to clean up that Jackson Pollock mess you left me.” Tora smirked.

“Listen, Ronzo, forget about that for a second,” he said. “I need you to do somethin’ else for me first.”

“You’re not gonna tell me what’s goin’ on, are ya?” Ronzo asked, the defeat evident in his voice.

“No, I’m not,” Tora replied. Ronzo let out a long sigh on the other end of the line, drawing out his response.

“Alright,” he said finally. “What do ya need?”

“I need you to find someone for me,” Tora said. Ronzo hesitated.

“Who?” he asked. Tora took a long drag, answering with his exhale.

“An old friend.”


	20. Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels a little more experimental for me because I wanted to work on character development, so hopefully it's still entertaining and interesting.

**_He's a real nowhere man_ **

**_Sitting in his nowhere land_ **

**_Making all his nowhere plans_ **

**_For nobody_ **

_The Beatles, "Nowhere Man"_

Twenty

It was late afternoon before Poppy, fully clothed but still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, crept down the narrow stairs to Sara’s kitchen. She could have stayed in bed for another three days, but Tora’s absence felt wrong, like a missing limb. She had grown used to his size and heat; the man was his own furnace. It was her want of him that finally pulled her free of the covers, the air icy on her bare legs.

Downstairs was considerably more comfortable, the kitchen small but full of warmth and life. A wood-burning stove glowed in one corner, a pot of what looked to Poppy like witch’s brew simmering on top. There were open shelves everywhere, brimming with mismatched cups and plates in a kaleidoscope of earthy colors. The long, untamed arms of dozens of plants snaked across countertops and the floor, the whole room alive with the smell of soil and tea. Tora sat at a tall island in the middle of the chaos, hunched over a bowl of stew. He smiled when he saw Poppy standing at the door.

“Mornin’,” he said in a tender rasp that trickled down Poppy’s spine like sap. She briefly imagined Tora clearing the island with one arm as he lifted her onto it with the other, driving into her until she screamed.

“Good morning!” Sara chirped as she entered the kitchen from the tea shop, her expression considerably brighter than it had been the night before. She flitted easily around the space, opening and closing jars as she searched for something.

“I think you mean afternoon,” Poppy said with a grimace, her face warm as she pushed the image of Tora’s naked body to the back of her mind.

“Is it?” Sara froze, her eyes dancing back and forth, before she started moving again. “Well I guess it is.”

Poppy joined Tora at the island as she studied Sara, wary of the older woman’s new demeanor. The Sara from last night had seemed droll but kind, while this Sara was bright like a firefly, humming with a frenetic energy that almost put Poppy on edge. _Maybe she was just tired_ , Poppy thought. _I’m sure I wasn’t quite myself last night, either._ Scenes from last night devolved into scenes from yesterday, into the long day that had been saturated with violence and pain. Poppy closed her brain to it, trying to remember only today; she would pretend to be reborn, baptized by Tora in the early morning light. It was naïve, she knew, to think that everything that had happened to her – to both of them – could just be washed away, but it was a lie she had to tell herself. There wasn’t time to heal, at least not yet.

“Are you hungry?” Tora asked as he watched Poppy squirm on her tip-toes to reach the tall bar stools. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her easily onto the seat, his touch lingering against her softness. Poppy nodded with a sly smirk.

“Starving,” she said, a wickedness in her voice. Tora arched an eyebrow at her, both of them pleasantly shocked by her ripe lust. Tora bit his lip and reluctantly drew his hands away, his eyes telling her everything: _Later._

Sara plunked a bowl of stew down in front of Poppy, the smell smoky and sweet.

“Does…does this have meat in it?” Poppy asked.

“Of course it does,” Sara answered. She evaluated Poppy with a level gaze. “Is there somethin’ wrong with that?”

“Pop’s kind of a vegetarian,” Tora explained with a smile. Poppy rolled her eyes.

“I guess I have been cheating,” Poppy said. “My mind has kind of been elsewhere lately.” Sara’s attention drifted between her two guests.

“Well you already ate this last night,” Sara finally said. “May as well finish off the pig.” Poppy grimaced but soon lost herself with the first bite, the meat tender in her mouth. Something inside of Poppy was growing more primal, the once dormant parts of her now sharp and burning. Her skin felt coated in lush, carnal nerves.

“Sara,” Poppy said suddenly. “You knew Tora when he was younger?” Tora stopped eating and stared at Poppy, trying to read her boldness.

“I did,” Sara called over her shoulder as she chopped vegetables. “And he was a pain in the ass then, too.” Poppy grinned at Tora but his face remained placid.

“Why do you say that?” Poppy asked, comfortably numb to Tora’s growing unease.

“You clearly don’t know street kids,” Sara said as she turned towards them, wiping her hands on her apron. “I met Tora when he was probably ten? Eleven? You wouldn’t have been able to tell because of his size, but his eyes told you everything. He was a scared little boy, runnin’ around with thugs, tryin’ to be tough.”

“Sara,” Tora said. She ignored him.

“He was doin’ what they were all doin’.” She lit a cigarette and blew out an elegant trail of smoke. “Shopliftin’, pickpocketin’, all of the stupid initiation shit. I’d see them eyin’ my patrons and I’d go out there in the street with my grandfather’s rifle. ‘You stay the hell away from here, you brats!’ Worked every time.” She mimed holding the gun above her head as she donned a look of quiet triumph.

“Initiation?” Poppy asked.

“Street gangs,” Sara said easily. “Street kids turn into street gangs. That’s the cycle of life around here. Tora was always part of that Balthuman crew, and those kids grew into some mean souls when they became teenagers.”

“Sara, I don’t think she wants to hear this.” Tora sat with his arms on the island, his fists clenched, not looking at either woman.

“Of course she does!” Sara answered, Poppy nodding enthusiastically, eager for an embarrassing story like the ones her parents told about her. “This is how we met! What was it you called yourselves? The Ares Street somethin’. Princes? Titans?”

“Kings,” Tora whispered.

“Kings! Right! So he’s always with these thugs, always with that Balthuman boy, who struck me as a little too soft. And of course they find guns. Some genius somewhere gives these idiots guns, and they start robbin’ places, beyond their little shopliftin’, despite the fact that this Balthuman guy is supposedly loaded. I guess it just gave ‘em a thrill.” A beacon of doubt began to flare in Poppy.

“They try comin’ into my place one winter night, freezin’ cold outside, three or four of them. And like every time before, I chase ‘em out. I’m screamin’ and hollerin’ and wavin’ my gun and they’re racin’ towards the backdoor. And I just about get rid of all of them when I feel my feet go out from under me and I fall straight to the floor, land right on my hip. I swear you could hear the crack.”

Poppy was focused on Tora now, her face molded into a gentle frown. His eyes stayed fixed on the woodgrain in front of him, Sara blissfully unaware of any change.

“I’m layin’ there in pain, still screamin’, and then this big head appears above mine in the dark. And it’s Tora, standin’ over me, askin’ me if I’m OK, if I need help. I think I called him every awful name in the book before I finally said ‘Yes, get me off this fuckin’ floor.’ And he did. He sat me up and made sure I wasn’t too badly hurt, even as his little asshole friends were runnin’ away. It was the most bizarre thing I had ever seen. Until the next day, when he stopped by to check on me, and the next day, and the next. And then _that_ was the most bizarre thing I had ever seen.”

Poppy’s heart swelled as she looked at Tora with a quiet awe. She couldn’t understand why he sat so rigid and stiff, seemingly horrified by the things Sara was saying. The story only served to reaffirm the truths Poppy held for Tora, the ones he couldn’t see himself, of his inherent goodness, of his worthiness in spite of everything he had done. She wanted to kiss him, boldly and unapologetically, but his body language stopped her.

“He was always a good kid,” Sara said, admiration in her tone. “He didn’t belong with those thugs. But I guess that’s what happens when you’re raised that way.”

“Sara,” Tora said suddenly.

“Even the best kid can only take so much abuse from an asshole like Balthuman.”

“Sara, stop.”

“He was groomin’ Tora like some wild animal, always tryin’ to get him to do more, hurt more, kill more.”

“Sara, I mean it.”

“I guess that’s why he kept Tora locked in that fuckin’ cage.”

“ENOUGH!” Tora roared, his stool clattering to the floor as he stood. The kitchen fell silent save for the bubbling of the stew, Sara and Poppy watching Tora carefully. He stared at the ground, his chest heaving. A bell rang in the tea shop and Sara stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray, her expression a mixture of apprehension and worry.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said softly before disappearing. Poppy didn’t know what to do, afraid that the slightest movement would unleash something deep and frightening in Tora.

“Tora…” Poppy started.

“Sara has a pill problem,” he interrupted. “She pops them all fuckin’ day. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about half the time.” Poppy sat and waited, unconvinced.

“Are you saying she’s lying?” Poppy whispered.

“I’m sayin’ she’s fucked up,” Tora answered. "I'm sayin' we're _all_ fucked up."

Poppy pushed herself off of the tall stool and walked over to Tora, hesitating only a moment before wrapping her arms around his torso, her head fitting beneath his chin. His hard posture softened gradually, one centimeter at a time, until his arms finally circled Poppy, his lips pressing against her hair.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Poppy said against his chest, trying to heal his body just as he had healed hers.

“I know,” he breathed. “Me, too.”


	21. Twenty-One

**_Not what you really wanted_ **

**_Nor the mess in your purse_ **

**_Nor the bed that is haunted_ **

**_With the blanket of thirst_ **

**_It's not the hunger revealing_ **

**_Nor the ricochet in the cave_ **

**_Nor the hand that is healing_ **

**_Nor the nameless grave_ **

_Big Thief, "Not"_

Twenty-One

“Were you really kept in a cage?”

Poppy’s voice was a wisp in the dark, so faint that Tora could barely hear her question. They were entwined on the bed, still sweaty and hoarse from lust. The day had been long and slow, Tora feeling a wildly specific guilt at refusing to let Poppy leave Sara’s, keeping her in her own cage. Poppy had pouted and argued, even threatening to go home to her apartment, and Tora had promised to throw her over his shoulder and drag her back from wherever she roamed.

“Since when are you the boss of me!?” Poppy had shouted, her face a radiant shade of red.

“Since you almost fuckin’ died!” Tora spat back. “We’re not goin’ anywhere until I figure out what’s goin’ on.”

He knew that Poppy wouldn’t press him, not when he brought up the danger she had been in, his eyes soft from the ensuing worry. And she hadn’t, instead stomping upstairs to lock herself in the bathroom for a marathon shower. Tora had been tempted to throw open the door and corner her against the wet tile until she told him why she was being so especially moody. After all, hadn’t he been the one to have one of his most shameful secrets so casually revealed? Still, Tora thought he already knew the reason behind Poppy’s change in demeanor: she was scared; they were both scared, just like they were both tired, confused, and horny, all of their vulnerabilities threatening to breach the surface of their composure.

Tora had given Poppy her space after that, letting her spend the rest of the day reading by the window in peace, at least until he could no longer stand it. And then he had trailed kisses down the back of her neck, pushing up her shirt to press his lips to her spine, his hands running over her stomach, her legs, her breasts, until she finally broke. She had ravaged him, frantic like a fox, talking dirty, asking him to go faster, harder, to fuck her until she wept. It frightened Tora as much as it thrilled him, and he gave in easily to every demand, helping her release whatever dangerous energy brewed inside of her. She had grown quiet after they both came, her face smooth and searching as she clung to Tora’s chest, asking him the question he didn’t want to hear.

“Were you really kept in a cage?”

Tora said nothing for several long minutes.

“You don’t have to…”

“I was,” he rasped. “Not all the time. Just when I was…weak.”

“What do you mean?” Poppy rested her chin on Tora’s sternum to read his expression, but his eyes were trained on the ceiling.

“Balthuman doesn’t tolerate weakness,” he answered. “Cryin’, whinin’, refusin’ to do things – that’s not what he kept me around for.”

“So when you did any of those things…”

“Yeah,” Tora said as he looked down at her, his retinas glowing lamp-like in the gloom. “When I cried, I went in the fuckin’ cage. And I stayed in there until I stopped cryin’, and stopped whinin’, and stopped doin’ anything human.” Poppy pressed a hand to his cheek, her tears catching the moonlight.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry he did those things to you. And I’m sorry I’ve been so weird today. After hearing what Sara said, about all of the things that happened to you, I just felt so…I don’t know. Like there was a volcano in my chest, and a pot of boiling water in my head, and this tingling in my hands…”

“Kid, wait,” Tora interrupted, his lips curling up. “Are you tryin’ to tell me that you were… _mad_? That’s why you’ve been actin’ like this? Because you were mad about someone hurtin’ me?”

“Well, yeah,” Poppy admitted shyly. “I’m not used to being so angry, OK? And you know I don’t like feeling helpless! But that’s what I felt: angry and helpless, like I wanted to punch something! And I guess it just made me cranky, and then that crankiness came out at you, and then… _Why are you laughing_?” Tora was chuckling, his chest bobbing as Poppy gawked.

“Jesus Christ, Pops. The tantrum? And the attitude? And the sex! Just because you were mad that someone was pickin’ on me?” He laughed harder, deep in his throat.

“It’s not funny!” she cried as she sat up. Tora wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back down on top of him.

“Poppy,” he huffed. “Poppy. You’re just the purest thing in the world.”

“I’m not _that_ pure,” she said, squishing her breasts against Tora to make her point.

“No, maybe not,” he agreed, his fingers tracing her curves. “But you’re good. You’re so fuckin’ good.” His words were tender with wonder, his mind buzzing over such a delicate and gutsy girl. “Too good for me,” he said sadly. Poppy propped herself up on her elbows.

“No.” There was a finality to her tone. “I’m not too good for you. You’re good, too, Tora, and that’s why I got so mad. I wanted to punch that Balthuman guy right in the face when Sara said that, but I couldn’t. Do you have any idea how annoying that is?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some idea, kid,” Tora answered, Quincey’s face materializing in his mind. He quickly shooed it away. “So you asked me to fuck the mad out of you instead?” Poppy bit her lip and nodded.

“I guess,” she confessed. “Maybe I should get a punching bag.”

“No, no,” Tora said lightly as he kissed her shoulder. “I am more than happy to take on the job. Just tell me what the fuck is goin’ on inside your head next time, OK?” Her eyes searched his face.

“Only if you do the same,” she said hesitantly, her expression turning serious. Tora studied her before raising his head to give her a kiss.

“I’ll try.”


	22. Twenty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going to make a little confession to you guys: y'all made me cry, but in the best possible way! I loved getting my BFA in Creative Writing, but being so critically engrossed in my work took the joy out of the craft for me, to the point where I didn't try my hand at a single piece for more than three years. After a while, I started to wonder if I would ever be able to write again, at least in the way that I wanted to. After finding MPL, I was floored - just having inspiration was enough. But I cannot possibly express how much it means to me that people enjoy my style and my story, especially because it's something I never anticipated. Every comment, every kudos, every single hit, has brought me a ridiculous amount of joy and kind of renewed my faith in myself and my ability to write. So thank you! Thank you thank you thank you! I hope I can continue on this path and always do justice to the original MPL.

**_My heart will never feel_ **

**_Will never see_ **

**_Will never know._ **

**_Oh, heart_ **

**_And then it falls_ **

**_And then I fall_ **

**_And then I know._ **

_Grimes, "Genesis"_

Twenty-Two

Tora waited until Poppy was asleep before creeping down the stairs to the alley, his brain numb, his whole body aching for a cigarette. He had tried to be better about smoking around her, but cigarettes were his constant companion, providing both comfort and distraction. Then again, so did Poppy.

Sara sat in a folding chair outside the back door like a pale specter, smoke drifting around her in chains.

“Jesus Christ,” Tora cursed and recoiled. He regained his composure quickly, anxious to mask his surprise. “I thought you were a fuckin’ ghost.” A small fire clicked to life in his hands.

“You shouldn’t smoke,” Sara said as she took a drag. “It’s a filthy habit.”

“Yeah? And you shouldn’t go around tellin’ other people’s secrets.” Tora was old enough and brave enough to admonish Sara now, but he still couldn’t look at her when he did so, afraid of crossing an invisible line of respect. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who bought me my first pack.”

“You needed somethin’ to keep you busy,” she admitted. “You were always so damn fidgety. And I thought maybe they would slow you down.”

“Gee, thanks,” Tora scoffed. “Good to know you always have my back.”

“I _do_ always have your back,” Sara said, her tone a gentle warning. “You know that better than anyone. And how was I supposed to know that you hadn’t talked to your girlfriend up there about everything?”

“Why the fuck would I have told her about Balthuman?” Tora asked incredulously.

“Don’t you curse at me,” Sara said with a raised finger. Tora had enough sense to cower. “You’re the one who showed up at my door in the middle of the night, draggin’ around this poor bruised and battered girl. All of this with no explanation, and after havin’ not heard from you for years. I thought you were dead, Tora.” Sara’s chin quivered and it occurred to Tora that his own icy demeanor, his own cool exterior of nothingness, was as much a product of Sara’s upbringing as it was of Balthuman’s. She had taught him to develop a thick skin not to hurt him, but to help him.

“I’m sorry, Sara,” he said softly, placing one large hand on her shoulder. She covered it with her own. “Everything just got so fucked up. All of it. I guess I didn’t want you to see me like that.” Tora knew, deep down inside of his doubt, that Sara would have tolerated him at his worst. But he refused to subject her to it; he sheltered her from him, just as he tried to shelter Poppy by turning her away. Both women were maddeningly stubborn.

“And now?” Sara asked.

“What do you mean?” Tora’s brow furrowed.

“Somethin’ finally made you come back,” Sara said, her eyes orange under the streetlight. “I’m guessin’ Poppy has a lot to do with that. I’m guessin’ Poppy has _everything_ to do with that.”

Tora stared at Sara, shocked at how easily the old woman could read him even after spending so much time apart. He had come back physically, but he knew that he had also come back in some other way, too, something inside of him finally reawakening. Was it happiness? Was it purpose? Tora had been too scared to name it, let alone admit the source, but nothing got past Sara.

“Poppy thinks I’m a good person,” Tora choked out with a pathetic laugh. “She thinks I’m not just some piece-of-shit street thug. I don’t know why.”

“Because she loves you,” Sara said simply. Tora’s head snapped towards her, his heart stopping. “That’s what people do when they love someone.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Tora whispered, his thumb absently flicking the end of his cigarette. “You’re sayin’ I’m some saint in her eyes because she loves me?”

“Don’t be simple,” Sara scolded, her chin tilted towards her chest. “She knows you’re no saint. A blind man with the IQ of a tree stump could see that you’re no saint…”

“OK, I get it,” Tora interrupted.

“My point is,” Sara went on, “she doesn’t just see the good in you. She sees the good _despite the bad_. That’s what people do when they love someone. It doesn’t mean you get to put her through hell, although from the looks of it, you may have already done that.” Tora winced and reminded himself to take some ice up to Poppy for her eye. “But it does mean that she can see the parts of you that you can’t. Just like I can.” Sara’s face sparkled, awash in a radiant pride. Tora could only nod.

“I…” Tora couldn’t finish, the words dangling on the end of his tongue.

“It’s OK, kid,” Sara said with a pat on his arm. “You don’t have to say it to me. Just make sure you say it to her.”

“What makes you so sure I love her?” Tora asked quietly, his gaze glued to the pavement so that he missed Sara’s warm smile.

“Because when she tells you you’re good, you believe her.”

* * *

Tora took his time trekking up the small stairs, the little bag of ice freezing his fingers. Poppy stirred towards him when he crawled into bed, the old hinges squeaking under his weight. She burrowed into his warmth, still half asleep, her head nestled under his chin.

“Pops?” he whispered.

“Hm?” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

“You should really put some ice on that eye.”

“Right now?” she asked, pulling away to look him in the face. Her eyes were barely open, the bruised one shiny and purple like a plum.

“Just for a few minutes,” he said as he gently pressed the pack against her skin. She hissed at the cold but didn’t move, letting Tora hold it in place.

“Poppy,” Tora started, a glacier of panic swelling in this throat. Her other eye had fallen closed again but drifted open when he spoke.

“I need to tell you something.” His voice was quaking. Worry clouded Poppy’s expression and she placed her hand over his, moving the ice away so that she could see him clearly.

“Is everything OK?” She was so painfully angelic in the night, her fair skin brilliant like starlight. Tora wasn’t sure if she was human or constellation.

“I…” _Say it_ , his mind roared. _Just fucking say it._

“I…” Before he could finish, Poppy’s mouth found his in the dark, her lips feathery soft, her breath sweet with life. She swirled her tongue against his, dancing and searching, her hand pressed to his chest. When she pulled away, her eyes were drowsy with something other than sleep.

“I love you, too,” she whispered. Tora stared at her, stunned and unmoving, until she reached for the ice and returned it to her bruise. She cuddled impossibly close to him, her fingers drawing tiny shapes on his back before she fell into a deep slumber. Tora knew he should rest, too, but he could only lay there in ecstatic confusion, his lips against Poppy’s hair, the smell of her shampoo tickling his nose.

 _This_ , he thought. _Just this_.

They were their own island, floating endlessly through the ocean, needing no one but themselves. Tora willed the moment to last forever; for time to stop so that he could grow old right there in that bed with Poppy in his arms. But the waters were churning around them, choppy and violent, relentless against their shores. The waves crashed and buzzed…and buzzed…and buzzed…

It was Tora’s phone, carelessly left on the nightstand. He had spent the day checking it religiously, hunched over it in a sort of silent prayer every time a message came through. Every text was from Quincey, imploring at first, wondering what emergency could possibly be keeping Tora away from his duties. With each unanswered query, the words grew more volatile, more intense, until Quincey began to berate Tora for being such a poor excuse for a bodyguard and friend. The last one had been especially scathing:

_I really hope you’re dead in a gutter somewhere. That’s the only good reason you’ve got for ignoring me. Don’t make me dock your pay._

Tora had laughed at that final line, knowing full well that it was the old man and not Quincey who filled his coffers. The joke was on both of the Balthuman men, though: Tora rarely spent any of his money, his car being his most extravagant purchase before it was so unceremoniously towed away. The rest of his earnings, the thick bricks of cash, were stored somewhere safe, $10,000 of it tucked into the bottom of Poppy’s bag. It had been the street kid in Tora who had thought to put the money away, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and it seemed that now that time had come.

Still, for all of his saving and planning, for all of his confidence and cunning, Tora couldn’t explain even to himself why he had been avoiding Quincey so completely. In some twisted way, they had grown up as brothers, but the Quincey of the past few weeks and months felt like a stranger, or worse, like his father. Tora knew that he would have to talk to Quincey eventually, but a string kept fraying in his brain, one that was directly tied to Poppy.

The phone buzzed again and Tora rolled away from Poppy reluctantly, careful not to wake her. The screen momentarily blinded him and he spat a curse as his eyes adjusted, fully anticipating another one of Quincey’s snide remarks. Instead he saw Ronzo’s name, Tora sliding the message open frantically to read two simple words:

_Found him._

* * *

Tora had insisted on Ronzo setting up the meeting as soon as humanly possible, and Ronzo, as good a man as ever and possibly the only Balthuman boy that Tora could still trust, had made it happen. Tora snuck out of Sara’s in the early morning fog, the clouds overhead threatening to open up and soak him to the bone. His eyes flashed in every direction, a constant paranoia creeping up his back like a frigid spider. He didn’t feel alone and safe until he made it to the car, following the GPS directions that Ronzo had sent him. _A fucking butcher’s shop_ , Tora thought when he read the address. _Figures_.

The destination was on the other side of town, drizzle decorating Tora’s windows as he smoked. He drove quickly and purposefully, a small seed of doubt sprouting in his stomach with every passing block. He wouldn’t be doing this if there was any other option, any other way out of this problem that he and Poppy were in. The lack of choices should have scared Tora or even made him sad, but instead it just pissed him off. For Poppy’s sake, for her very survival, it was an anger that he would have to tolerate, at least for the time being.

Tora parked in the alley behind the butcher’s, the building ancient and scarred, surrounded by other meat shops that made the street reek of death. There was a simple steel door on the back brick wall, the knob turning easily when Tora tried it. He walked through a narrow, dark hallway towards the front of the empty store, the hour far too early for anyone to be working. His hand instinctively rested on his gun as he pushed past the thick plastic curtains into the light.

The shop was empty, the red and yellow tile floor pockmarked like a city street. The freezers and display cases were turned off, the whole room illuminated by a golden lamp in one corner. An old wooden table sat in the middle of the space, a chair on either side, a glass vase with a single rose sitting in the center. A gramophone beside the lamp played a lazy bit of jazz.

Tora looked around with exasperation. _Late_ , he thought. _Fucking typical._ That’s when he felt the cool muzzle of a gun press against the back of his head, a ghoulish voice creeping forward with it.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.”


	23. Twenty-Three

**_I ain't happy, I'm feeling glad_ **

**_I got sunshine in a bag_ **

**_I'm useless but not for long_ **

**_The future is coming on_ **

_Gorillaz, "Clint Eastwood"_

Twenty-Three

“I knew you weren’t dead,” Tora remarked casually as he reached for his pack of cigarettes, the gun still flush with his head. “Fuckin’ cockroach.”

“I’d be a little nicer to the guy you’re askin’ for help,” the voice answered. Tora felt the muzzle disappear, his last bit of tension going with it.

Goliath circled him and took a seat at the table, avoiding Tora’s gaze. He looked as if he had just been through a war, barely surviving. He was gaunt, his once chiseled features now skeletal and jarring. Dark bags like bruises highlighted the ghostly yellow of his eyes, their vibrancy dulled to a jaundiced watchfulness. The roots of his hair were scraggly and outgrown, black bleeding into the faded blue dye.

“What makes you think I need your help?” Tora asked as he took the opposite chair, Goliath reluctantly matching his stare.

“Why else would you ask Ronzo to find me?” A small smile tugged at Goliath’s lips. “Unless you’re finally tryin’ to finish me off, in which case, I’d say you’re gettin’ pretty fuckin’ lazy.” He leaned back, cool and smug, draping an arm behind him. _Pompous bastard_ , Tora thought. _Maybe I_ should _just kill him._

“If I wanted you dead,” Tora said softly, a wicked gleam in his eyes, “you’d be fuckin’ dead.” Goliath swallowed hard, his bravado wavering. “You look like shit, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know,” Goliath answered, running a hand through his greasy hair. “Kind of hard to get to the hairdresser when you’re supposed to be a corpse.”

“Why’d you off yourself?” The two fell into an easy exchange, having spent years together as brothers and savages. Goliath’s betrayal of having turned Tora over to the police would always burn bright in Tora’s memory, but he couldn’t deny the small glimmer of relief he felt in seeing his old friend again, even if it marked him as sentimental.

“Things got out of control,” Goliath said as he picked at his nails. “Fuckin’ cops wanted more intel than I was willin’ to give, so they started goin’ back on their offer. I wasn’t about to go to prison, not after all the snitchin’ I did. So I figured some bloody shoes and a few rumors would do the trick.”

“It’s amazing how easily people will believe somethin’ when they really want it to be true,” Tora said.

“Exactly,” Goliath answered with a smile. Tora rolled his eyes. They watched each other for a moment, each calculating some unknowable equation.

“You’re mixed up in more than that,” Tora said carefully. “That notebook everyone wants. And the fact that you’re still breathin’. You’re workin’ with someone else.” Tora’s language always devolved when he talked to people from his past, as if the street kid in him didn’t have time for letters and words.

“Tora,” Goliath started, his eyes narrowing. “I can’t tell you about that notebook…”

“I don’t care about the notebook,” Tora interrupted. “I care about who you’re workin’ with.” Goliath studied him before answering.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because you’re right,” Tora admitted through his teeth. “I do need your help.” Goliath’s head bobbed as he ruminated on those words, his grin working on Tora’s last fraying nerve. 

“I knew it,” Goliath said. “I knew you’d always fuckin’ need me.”

“Don’t push it,” Tora growled, Goliath undeterred. “It’s not you I need. It’s whoever you’re workin’ with.”

“And what do I get out of this?” Goliath asked, one eyebrow cocked. Tora took a drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out on the table.

“I don’t skin you alive and hang you from one of those meat hooks,” he answered coolly. Goliath went still with doubt. _Good_ , Tora thought with a smile. _He still remembers who’s in charge._

“What do you need?” Goliath asked softly, clearly annoyed but unwilling to test Tora’s limits.

“You know a big guy, skin full of craters? Gold chains, black beard, scar over his right eye? Prison tats covering his face, arms, and chest?” Tora cringed as he described the man, the image of the thug’s hands trailing over Poppy’s body making him sick with fear and anger all over again. He had sent a description to Ronzo with no success and he doubted that Goliath would be of any help, either, but he had to at least try. Goliath squinted as he searched an invisible catalog in his brain.

“Doesn’t ring any bells,” he eventually said.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Tora’s tone dripped with accusations.

“What, so you can make me into a meal?” Goliath asked, tilting his head towards the hooks in the window. “No, I’m not lyin’ to you.” His voice was tinged with annoyance. “That it?”

“No,” Tora answered. “I need you do somethin’ else for me.” Goliath waited, both eyebrows raised. The gramophone crackled in the corner.

“I need you to make me disappear,” Tora said. “New passports, new birth certificate – new everything.” Goliath gawked, the attention making Tora uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat, lighting another cigarette.

“Since when does big bro Tora run from a fight?” Goliath marveled.

“Can you do it or not?” Tora snapped. He wasn’t about to get into the details with Goliath of all people.

“Yeah,” Goliath answered. “I can do it. What are we thinkin’? Businessman? Tattoo artist? I can’t see you as an accountant…”

“Just get it fuckin’ done,” Tora ordered, his patience razor-thin. “And I need you to do it for someone else, too.”

“Who?” Goliath’s eyebrow quirked again and Tora felt the sudden urge to peel the whole thing off his face. The last thing he wanted to do was give Goliath a shred of information about Poppy, but he didn’t see any way around it, not if he was going to keep her safe.

“Her name’s Poppy,” Tora nearly whispered. Goliath laughed, pleased with himself and the moment.

“A girl? That’s what this is all about?!” Goliath’s face glowed with amusement. “Who would have thought you would be brought down by some fuckin’ pussy?” Tora slammed his fist on the table with a scowl.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth,” he warned, Goliath putting his hands up in mock defense.

“Alright, alright,” he teased. “No need to get testy. I’m not gonna hurt her.”

“Good,” Tora breathed. “Because if you do…”

“I know, I know,” Goliath interrupted. “The meat hooks.” He appraised Tora, some of the seriousness returning to his face. “So when do you need this by?”

“Soon,” Tora answered. “A day or two.”

“A day or two?!” Goliath balked. “I can’t get you that shit in a day or two!”

“You fuckin’ owe me!” Tora roared. There was no lightness left in Goliath now; only a scared and cowering wannabe, clinging to the scraps of his former self.

“Fine,” he pouted. “But we’re finished after this.”

“No, we’re not,” Tora breathed, Goliath’s skin growing pale. Tora weighed the last favor in his mind, turning it over and over again like a stone he was trying to smooth. The separate sides of him, the ones ruled by different entities, warred with one another, throwing flares out into his subconscious in the shape of words. Trust, Loyalty, and the strongest of them all: Love.

“I need one last thing,” he said. Goliath leaned in with a frown. 


	24. Twenty-Four

**_See the turncoat on his knees,_ **

**_The vagabond that no one sees_ **

_Beck, "Blue Moon"_

Twenty-Four

Poppy woke to a note on Tora’s pillow, the words scrawled in his familiar scratch. _Be back soon_ , and then below that, in larger letters: _DON’T LEAVE_. Poppy scoffed at the order, half tempted to stick a single toe out the window just to defy it. But she wouldn’t, even to test the waters, even to please the soft rebel inside of her. She understood the amount of pressure that Tora was under and the way it manifested itself because she felt that same pressure, intense and unending. She wanted to be a safe harbor for him, not another source of consternation.

Raindrops plunked the tin roof and Poppy considered staying in bed all day. What could she do but wait? She had no idea where Tora was or what he was doing; she had no idea of anything except for the few small steps ahead of her. Get up, brush her teeth, throw on some clothes. And then what? She had never been in a situation like this, had never been so close to death and so far removed from the real world. She wondered if maybe she was in a prolonged state of shock and that’s why she had yet to settle into a true panic about the sudden shift in her life’s trajectory. But Poppy knew that wasn’t it; she knew she wasn’t feeling less, but was instead feeling more. Her mind drifted towards last night, to Tora’s odd sense of babying. His eyes had burned like fiery, anxious suns, even in the dark, his nerves palpable. Poppy felt every ounce of him vibrating as he tried to tell her those short, sweet words, her heart knowing the truth even when he was unable to voice it. The fact that he had tried at all was proof enough of his love.

Poppy rolled out of bed with an ache in her back, cursing the ancient mattress. She dressed warmly and knotted her hair into a tight bun, walking downstairs with a tremendous yawn. Sara was in her shop, blending different varieties of tea into the same glass jar, a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose. She greeted Poppy without looking at her.

“Good morning,” she said, less chirper than yesterday. Poppy spotted an empty prescription bottle on the counter. “I’m out of my uppers,” Sara noted, Poppy’s eyes going wide.

“Oh, I didn’t…I mean, I wasn’t…” Poppy trailed off, embarrassed.

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Sara tried to soothe her, carefully measuring a tiny pile of blue petals. “I told one of Tora’s secrets, so I guess he gets to tell one of mine.” Poppy twisted the hem of her shirt, willing herself into an invisible mist that could easily drift away from the conversation.

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” Sara said as she put down her work and turned towards Poppy. “I guess I just get carried away sometimes. You should have heard all of that from him.”

“Well, he’s not always the most talkative guy,” Poppy said with a smile. Sara barked a laugh.

“No, no he’s not,” she agreed. “But he’s a damn good kid, even if he gets mixed up in the wrong shit sometimes.”

“I know he is,” Poppy said softly, her face turning wistful. Sara studied her.

“I imagine he did a number on whoever gave you that bruise,” Sara observed. Poppy gazed at her solemnly.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“Because Tora doesn’t take kindly to people hurtin’ the ones he loves.” Poppy flinched at the word love; hearing it on Sara’s tongue somehow made it all the more real. “I don’t know what you two are into, and frankly, I’m too old to know. What I do know is that you’re lucky to have Tora on your side.” Poppy wasn’t sure if Sara’s words were meant to warn or comfort her. The older woman’s visage was shrewd and unnerving, like a wizened mother bear.

“I love him,” Poppy offered, trying to hold her head high. Sara’s scrutiny was more intense than any thug with a gun.

“I know you do,” she answered finally. “That’s why he’s lucky to have you on _his_ side.” Some of the worry left Poppy then, her arms falling limp at her sides. Sara gave her a smirk before turning back towards her jars, beckoning Poppy over with one hand. “Now come help me with this. I can’t see a damn thing.”

* * *

Tora was gone for longer than Poppy would have liked, her phone constantly illuminating her disappointment as she frequently checked it. She thought about texting him but talked herself out of it every time. _Don’t be needy, Pops_ , she told herself. _He’s a big boy. I’m sure he’s fine._ Of course Poppy knew that this was no routine trip, wherever he had gone, and that with Tora, danger was always part of the process. But she couldn’t stop herself from worrying, not when they had both become such an obvious target for an unknown hunter.

Poppy tried to read but her mind kept drifting towards frightening possibilities. She offered to help Sara in her shop, but the woman shooed her away after Poppy dropped her third jar of tea, the leaves twirling to the floor like snow. Poppy rummaged through the kitchen cabinets for food, stuffing herself with old bread until she thought she might burst. None of it could distract her from the voice inside her head, the one that echoed the same question over and over again: _where the hell is Tora?_ She finally settled on a shower, despite the fact that she had already scrubbed herself raw with anger the day before. At least there was a process to bathing, one that would keep her occupied if only for a few minutes.

Poppy stood naked and shivering in the bathroom as she waited for the water to warm, the old pipes churning with the effort. The shower was small but beautiful, the tiles a glossy lapis blue that reminded Poppy of the night sky. She breathed a slow sigh of pleasure and relief when the spray hit her back, steam coiling around her face, moistening her stray hairs. She fell into a trance, the soap smooth and fragrant against her skin, the whole bathroom filling with the scent of lavender and clean cotton.

“Pops?” Poppy let out a little yelp, startled by Tora’s deep voice on the other side of the shower curtain. “You OK?”

“I’m fine!” she called. “You just scared me!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to tell you I’m back. I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, wait!” Poppy pushed the curtain partly aside, trying to hide her body from view. Tora raised a playful eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to tell me where you went?” Tora’s expression fell for a moment before renewing its puckish grin.

“Maybe,” he said slyly. “But you’ll have to convince me first.” Poppy didn’t know if she wanted to fuck him or slap him. She had been worried about him all day, and here he was, fresh as a daisy, a smug look of satisfaction crawling across his face. _Oh_ _I’ll convince you_ , she thought.

Poppy pulled the curtain open, standing exposed before Tora, her skin slick with suds. Tora groaned, his eyes trekking lazily across her curves, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He pulled his clothes off easily, throwing them in a pile beside Poppy’s, and stepped into the stall, crowding her against the tile. He was massive in the cramped space, towering above the showerhead.

“How are we going to get you clean?” Poppy demurred as she batted her eyelashes.

“I’m not interested in anything _clean_ ,” Tora answered, bending towards Poppy’s mouth. She stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“Nu uh,” she said with a wag of her finger. “You said I had to convince you.” Something feral and proud passed across Tora’s face. He leaned back and waited.

“So convince me,” he said softly. 

Poppy reached out and took hold of Tora’s stiff cock, his breath hissing between his teeth. She pumped her soapy hand over him languidly, creating a warm, slippery lather. She met his eyes boldly, biting her lip before placing a row of kisses along his collarbone. Her tongue traveled over his pecs, tracing his tattoos and nipples until they were as erect as hers. Tora’s jaw was tightly clenched, the vein in his forehead straining as Poppy’s palm turned achingly slow around the head of his cock. With her free hand she raised his fingers to her mouth and began to suck, her tongue cradling each digit.

“Poppy,” he breathed, his eyes drifting closed.

“Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me what you want.” Tora’s eyes snapped open again, Poppy smiling cheekily at having repeated his words back to him, the ones he had uttered the first time they made love.

“I want you to suck my cock,” he said with a wicked smirk, his hand kneading one of Poppy’s breasts, his thumb flicking her wet nipple.

Poppy licked her lips as she lowered herself to her knees, running a clean palm over Tora’s cock to remove the bubbles. The water pounded on her from up above and Tora hunched over her protectively, his arms pressed against the tile, the drops pattering onto his back instead. Poppy smiled as she pressed the tip of her tongue against the base of his cock and drew it slowly up to the head, flickering against its underside. She followed the bulging veins and circled the glans before running her lips down towards his balls. She licked one and then the other, Tora’s whole body shuddering.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pops,” he said. _That won’t do_ , Poppy thought. _Not if he can still talk_.

Poppy drew one of Tora’s balls into her mouth and he choked out a sound she had never heard before, something between a laugh and a gasp. She sucked gently, her hand stroking his shaft, before moving to the other side, Tora moaning above her. When he seemed sufficiently befuddled, she wrapped her lips around his cock, pushing deep, as far as she could go until she felt him at the back of her throat. She remained still for a moment before pulling him back out, hypnotically slow, her tongue molding around his shape.

“Tora,” she cooed. “Look at me.” He pressed his forehead against his folded arms, hovering over her like a mighty tree, his eyes glued to her face. Poppy didn’t break her gaze as she pushed her chest towards Tora’s cock, circling her nipples with the head before placing the shaft between her dripping breasts. She squeezed them together, forming a snug channel around him, and began to slide up and down his length. Poppy caught his head in her mouth and sucked hard, bobbing in a calculated frenzy that sent spasms coursing through Tora.

Tora swore and moaned, Poppy moving faster until she could feel him shaking. She dropped her breasts and drew his shaft back into her mouth, her lips sealed tight as she pushed deep, up and down, over and over, Tora’s cock growing impossibly hard. She felt one of his large hands cup the back of her head and he thrust into her mouth gently, his hips lightly pulsing until Poppy quietly gagged. Tora began to pull out, anxious to apologize, but Poppy suctioned her lips around him and kept sucking, knowing he was close. She fell into an easy rhythm, her head working in time with her hand as they stroked him towards completion, Tora’s whole body tensing in pleasure. He leaned into her, his torso curling with the force, and Poppy felt him explode in her mouth with a strangled cry. He tasted hot and salty as she swallowed him, only pulling away when he was completely drained.

“So?” she said as she looked up at him with a smile, cleaning her lips with her fingertips as if she had just finished a delicious meal. “Are you convinced?” Tora panted, his expression incredulous.

“No,” he growled as he stooped and picked her up, holding her with one arm as he used the other to turn off the shower. “I’d say we’re only halfway there.” Poppy giggled as she wrapped her legs around him, pressing her moisture and heat against his stomach. Tora groaned and carried her to the bed, promising to make her dirty again as he laid her down and dipped his head between her thighs.

* * *

“So this Goliath guy got you arrested?” Poppy asked as she twirled a strand of Tora’s dark hair around her finger. She lay on her back, the sweat still drying on her skin, Tora clinging to her, his head snuggled beneath her chin.

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “He got me arrested.”

“Then why ask him for help?” She desperately wanted to understand Tora’s logic, but maybe there was more to it than she would ever fully comprehend. Maybe it was a code, a language, that only certain people could speak.

“Because I need his resources,” Tora answered. Poppy sensed annoyance in his voice, not at her but at the situation. He wasn’t good at asking for things.

“I don’t get it,” Poppy said. “Doesn’t your… _organization_ have resources?” She didn’t want to mention the names Quincey or Balthuman, both tinged with a heavy air of malice and anger. But Tora was powerful and respected in his gang, and that had to stand for something.

“Pops,” Tora started, turning to look at her. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you,” she said, brushing her nails along his cheek. His eyelids were heavy, his exhaustion painfully evident. Poppy longed for an easy cure, wishing a simple kiss would heal him.

“Then trust me,” he said before pressing his lips against her collarbone. His head fell back to her chest, heavy and full. “Goliath is our only option.”

Poppy said nothing more as she kneaded the muscles in his neck, brushing her hand over his hair when she felt the easy rhythm of his slumber. He hadn’t told her why he had gone to see Goliath or what he had asked for; he had simply stated that it had been a necessary evil, one that would keep them safe. For as much as she trusted Tora, the lack of control terrified her, every minute detail vying for attention in her overworked brain. _What about my apartment? What about my job? What about my friends?_ Tora had spent so long looking out for only himself and his world, so how would he know what to do with hers?

Poppy gritted her teeth and tried to sleep, but rest came to her slowly. It was three in the morning before she finally fell into a fitful dream state, her mind haunted by images of tattooed ghouls and bright, blond heads with mouths full of flames. Cockroaches crawled up her skin, their legs like frigid fingers, and she saw her own distorted reflection in a warped pane of glass, blood dripping from her nose and forming rose-shaped patterns on her shirt. A hot chain wrapped around her neck, squeezing tighter and tighter, and she tried to scream but her breath left her in gasps.

She woke with a start, her stomach high in her throat as if she had been falling. It was a new day and Tora was gone, another note decorating his pillow. Poppy groaned in irritation as she picked up the sheet of paper. _I wish he’d stop disappearing like this_ , she thought as she read. She found a small bit of comfort in his words, this message clearly more thoughtful than the last.

_Kid,_

_I’m sorry I keep leaving. Let me do this one last thing and then I promise I will tell you everything._

_Everything._

_Tora_

Poppy held the paper close to her heart before folding it and putting it in her bag with Tora’s other notes. She was ready to leave Sara’s; she was ready to know why she was in danger and what Tora was planning; she was ready to go home. And more than anything, she was ready to build a life with Tora, even as part of her balked at the idea, her own brain reminding her that he was a gang member and a killer. _We’ll find a way_ , she argued with herself. _We have to_.

The day was cold and Poppy donned her heaviest sweater, her stomach rumbling as she made her way to the kitchen. She craned her neck towards Sara’s shop and noticed that the lights were dim, despite the late morning hour. She pushed through the dividing curtain, searching for the older woman. The small store was empty, the lamps extinguished so that everything was tinted a muted blue from the gloom outside. The air was thick and still, the way a forest falls eerily quiet after the first snow. Or when a predator is near, and the prey are trying hard to not be found.

 _Something isn’t right_ , Poppy thought.

As if in response, a phantom hand reached from behind Poppy to wrap around her mouth. Her heart erupted as a black hood was shoved over her head, her world descending into darkness.


	25. Twenty-Five

**_'Cause your crystal ball_ **

**_Ain't so crystal clear_ **

_Beastie Boys, "Sabotage"_

Twenty-Five

Tora didn’t like hiding his plans from Poppy, not when they involved her very life. Part of him was used to the silence and the intrigue; he was trained to keep to himself in order to serve and protect. But Poppy wasn’t his charge and he wasn’t her bodyguard – they were partners, and partners were meant to share. _One last thing_ , he told himself. _Just this one last thing._ And then they could go someplace far away, someplace where he wasn’t Tora the thug, Tora the monster, Tora the beast. He could just be Tora, and Poppy could just be safe.

Despite his apprehension, Tora had texted Quincey early that morning. Something unnamable had been clawing at Tora’s subconscious, something decidedly devious about the way Quincey had been behaving lately. But this was Quincey, Tora told himself: soft, conceited Quincey, who bought expensive hand lotion and insisted on fresh roses in his apartment. He may have carried the Balthuman name, but he hardly carried any other trace of his father’s legacy.

Quincey had always been jealous of how easily Tora could woo women, how they fell over him despite his disinterest, and so he chalked Quincey’s change in behavior up to their old sibling rivalry. Nothing more, nothing less. Tora knew Quincey wouldn’t take well to losing his bodyguard and closest friend, and he wasn’t stupid enough to mention Poppy in the deal, but he had to talk to Quincey, face-to-face. He owed him that much. A wave of quiet relief had washed over Tora when Quincey texted him back: _Join me for lunch. We’ll have a feast!_ Typical Quincey.

The restaurant Quincey had insisted on was discreet and exclusive, tucked between metallic industrial buildings near the city wharf. It was an invitation-only establishment, one reserved for the dangerous and elite. Tora gave a ferocious scowl to the doorman’s failed attempt to pat him down before slipping through a heavy steel door, his eyes straining to adjust to the restaurant’s dark interior. The space was empty save for Quincey sitting at a long mahogany table in the center of the room, flanked by two prismatic fish tanks, their light bathing him in an eerie, undulating glow.

“Can it be?” Quincey asked as he stood. “Is big bro Tora actually on time?”

“Hilarious,” Tora said, lighting a cigarette and surveying his surroundings. “Some place.”

“Only the best for you, Tora.” Quincey was dressed in a luxurious purple suit, the fine threads interwoven with strands of gold. His hair was slick and flaxen, the same shade of pale yellow as his pocket square.

“I guess,” Tora said with a quirked eyebrow. Quincey gestured to the seat across from him and Tora sat, uneasy at the formality.

“You wanted to talk,” Quincey said. Before Tora could answer, Quincey snapped his fingers and an ornate wooden door opened behind him, men in black suits filing out with trays and carts brimming with food. They heaped plates and bowls onto the table, each overflowing with steaming vegetables and stews, dewy meats and crusty bread, and gelatinous desserts that reminded Tora of jellyfish.

“Jesus Christ, Quincey,” Tora said in wonder. “You feedin’ an army?” Quincey laughed.

“I know how you like to eat, Tora,” he answered. “I’m just trying to be a good host.” The waiters began to retreat back behind the door but three remained stationed near Quincey and the fish tanks, their hands clasped before them. They were big men, almost familiar to Tora, and their watchfulness made him uncomfortable.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Quincey asked as he spooned a speckled rice onto his plate. Tora swallowed hard, his appetite gone.

“Quincey, I need to tell you something,” he said slowly. Quincey didn’t look at him as he reached for another dish.

“Something wrong?” he asked absently.

“No. Well, maybe. You might think so.” Tora felt oddly sheepish, like a child standing before a disappointed parent.

“Don’t tell me you broke someone else’s jaw,” Quincey said in annoyance. Tora smiled as he remembered punching Julri. “You know I hate unnecessary violence.”

“Some violence is necessary from time to time,” Tora answered lightly. Quincey met his eyes, scathing and direct.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I guess you’re right.” A subtle chill crept up Tora’s spine. He could have sworn he was sitting across from Vincent Balthuman, just for a second.

“Quincey, listen,” he started, shrugging off his doubt. “I need to go away for a while.”

“Go away?” Quincey’s knife scraped across the fine china.

“I can’t do this bodyguard thing anymore. The paranoia, the hurtin’ people – you’re right, I’m too violent, and that’s not who I want to be.”

“But that’s who you were born to be,” Quincey said between bites. Tora gritted his teeth.

“No, it’s not,” he argued. “That’s who I was _made_ to be, but it’s not who I am.”

“And who are you?” Quincey set down his fork and rested his elbows on the table, folding his hands. He waited with a look of bored expectation.

“I don’t know,” Tora confessed, slightly unnerved. He sat straight and alert in his chair, his own plate still empty. “But I’m not going to find out if I keep livin’ this life. I know you don’t get it because you don’t have to deal with this shit…”

“You think I don’t get it?” Quincey interrupted. “You think I don’t feel pressure? You think I don’t do things that I hate doing? You think it’s easy being my father’s heir?”

“That’s not what I meant, Quincey,” Tora said. He knew that Quincey wasn’t cut out to be part of the Balthuman Organization, and that he, just like Tora himself, was in many ways a product of someone else’s dreams.

“I know what you meant,” Quincey snapped. “You want to leave me. You’ve been my only true friend – my brother, really – and you want to leave me.” Tora stared, overcome by guilt. He saw a small, helpless Quincey in his mind’s eye, crying in a circle of bullies.

“Quincey, I…”

“No, I get it,” Quincey said, throwing up a hand. Tora thought he caught a glimmer in Quincey’s eye but it was gone before he could be sure. “You’re sick of taking care of me, and you know what? You should be. I’m not a boy anymore, Tora. I’m a man.” The last word was sharp and pointed as a knife.

“It’s not about takin’ care of you,” Tora sighed. “It’s about me.”

“And her,” Quincey whispered. Tora froze.

“What did you say?” he asked, his whole body buzzing.

“It’s about you,” Quincey said louder, “and _her_.” He glared at Tora from beneath his lashes, his gaze ferocious. Tora met it, his heart quaking.

“So tell me, Tora,” Quincey began, voice dripping with menace, “how many times did you make Poppy come?”


	26. Twenty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I didn't intend for this to be another cliffhanger! I just want to ensure that I don't rush the writing process for what happens next. Please bear with me!

**_Out of the blue_ **

**_and into the black._ **

**_You pay for this_ **

**_but they give you that._ **

**_And once you're gone,_ **

**_you can't come back._ **

**_When you're out of the blue_ **

**_and into the black._ **

_Neil Young, "Into the Black"_

Twenty-Six

“Quincey,” Tora started. Poppy’s name reverberated in his mind, growing into a deafening clamor. He began to gauge the exits in his periphery: their number, their distance, how long he needed to take down the men guarding them.

“You heard me!” Quincey shouted, pounding his fist on the table. “How many times did you fuck my girl?” Tora lowered his head, his glare tearing at Quincey’s determination.

“She’s not your girl,” Tora said quietly. Quincey flinched.

“Well she’s certainly not yours, _dog_.” The word was meant to inflict an acute pain, twisting the dagger as it flamed in Tora’s heart.

“Quincey,” Tora tried again, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You never do,” Quincey grumbled. “You never mean for every girl to fall in love with you but they still fucking do. Why couldn’t you just let me have this? Why couldn’t you just give me this one fucking thing?”

“Because she’s not a fucking _thing_ ,” Tora said through his teeth. He wanted to slap the petulant whine out of Quincey’s voice. “She’s not something you get to own. She’s not one of your shiny trinkets.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a child!” Quincey cried.

“Then stop actin’ like one!” Tora yelled back. They were both panting, squaring themselves against one another for a duel. Tora sensed the guards closing in around him, waiting for Quincey’s cue.

“You think a child could do what I’ve done?” Quincey asked, his tone dark. “You think a child could fool big brother Tora?” His voice rasped, cunning as a snake, and a fissure cracked wide in Tora, spreading into a horrible realization. Tora gawked at Quincey, dumbfounded.

“It was you,” Tora whispered. “The men at the restaurant. The thug in Poppy’s apartment.” He clenched his fists until they turned white. Something primal seeped into his muscles and bones, a fire igniting in his chest. “It was all you.”

“I knew you wanted her the day she came blubbering to me about her job,” Quincey said with a small smile. “You’ve never cared about what happened to anyone, but suddenly you cared about what happened to her.”

Quincey picked up a manila folder from the chair beside him and shuffled through it, pulling out several large, glossy photos. He shoved his plate aside and slid the photos across the polished table. Tora drew his eyes from Quincey slowly to study the images, his stomach turning. There was Poppy, holding Tora’s hand as she tried to return his money; Tora himself, shirtless, smoking on Poppy’s balcony; and Poppy in Tora’s lap, her head thrown back in ecstasy, his face buried between her breasts.

“You sonofabitch,” Tora breathed. “You’re the reason she got hurt.”

“No,” Quincey said decisively. “ _You’re_ the reason she got hurt. I was simply testing your loyalties the first time, and it was obvious that they weren’t with me. And after all my family has done for you…”

“After all your family has done for me?!” Tora roared. “Your father kept me locked in a fucking cage!” Something like doubt flitted across Quincey’s features. _He didn’t know_ , Tora thought..

“Wild animals belong in cages,” Quincey said after a long moment, his resolve returned. “I think that’s obvious from what you did to our dear friend Goro.”

“You piece of shit,” Tora seethed as his temperature rose. His face felt molten hot. “You sent that asshole to her apartment.”

“They were supposed to go together, Goro and his brother Jiro,” Quincey said casually, inspecting his nails. “I know what a handful you can be. But I guess it really is hard to find good help these days.”

Tora always tried to stay unreadable on the outside, remaining frighteningly calm to confuse and distract his enemies. But he couldn’t do it now, not when Quincey, who he had known his whole life, who he had _protected_ his whole life, was sitting so indifferently across from him, finally donning the Balthuman mantle. There was no trace of lightness left in Quincey, no redemption for his soul, not after what he had done to Poppy. Tora cracked his knuckles before lighting another cigarette, taking one long drag before stubbing it out on the table.

“So now what?” Tora asked, his body coiled like a spring, his gun suddenly heavy in his waistband. “You going to kill me?”

“No,” Quincey said with a laugh, his expression calm and easy. “First I’m going to make you watch.”

“Watch?” The word left Tora’s mouth in a gasp, the cold hand of fear seizing his throat.

Quincey nodded and the door behind him opened again. Poppy was thrust into the light, bound and gagged.


	27. Twenty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bloodshed and rape/sexual assault
> 
> This is easily one of the darkest things I have ever written and I am genuinely terrified about what everyone will think of it, so I'm going to go hide my head in the sand.

**_I'll wait, so show me why you're strong_ **

**_Ignore everybody else,_ **

**_We're alone now_ **

**_I'll wait, so show me why you're strong_ **

**_Ignore everybody else,_ **

**_We're alone now_ **

_James Blake, "Retrograde"_

Twenty-Seven

“Poppy!” Tora jumped to his feet in a blind panic, the world going momentarily dark as something heavy cracked against his skull. A fist connected with his stomach and he fell to his knees, his breath leaving him in a horrible gasp. Two meaty hands yanked his arms behind his back and quickly cuffed his wrists, pulling his gun from his waistband.

“Poppy,” Tora wheezed, doubled over in pain. He lifted his head and met Poppy’s panicked expression. Her shirt was torn down the middle, her bra exposed. Blood dripped from her nose onto her pale chest.

“Quincey,” Tora growled as he pulled more air into his lungs. “What the fuck are you doing?! Let her fucking go!”

“Why would I do that?” Quincey asked innocently, standing close to Poppy as he appraised her. “You _always_ get what you want, Tora. Maybe you shouldn’t this time…” He pressed a hand to Poppy’s swollen cheek and she flinched, tears welling in her eyes.

“Quincey, I swear to fucking God,” Tora spat, twisting in his cuffs as he straightened. A guard shoved him back towards the floor and Tora tried to jerk away, earning him another blow to the face. The pain detached itself quickly, his adrenaline soaring. “If you don’t let her go…”

“Are you seriously trying to threaten me?” Quincey asked with a laugh, giving Poppy a gentle pat. “I mean, I know you’re intimidating – that’s why dad kept you alive for so long. But look around you, Tora,” Quincey gestured grandly, basking in the role of ringleader. “You can’t win this time.”

“Let her fucking go!” Tora’s voice was more animal than human, his energy growing primal and chaotic. Only a small sliver of rational thought remained. “Just let her go,” he said. “She didn’t do anything. Do whatever the fuck you want to me. Just let her go.” Poppy squirmed, her eyes eating up half her face, her protests muffled to a pathetic whine.

“You’re kidding, right?” Quincey scoffed.

“This isn’t you, Quincey,” Tora pleaded, blood dripping from his mouth.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Quincey said, his tone acidic. “You’re strong and handsome and powerful. But what do _I_ have?” Quincey waited but Tora said nothing. “I have my father’s name. That’s what makes _me_ powerful. It’s time I start acting like a Balthuman.”

“You’re not like your father,” Tora protested. “You don’t hurt people! I know you, Quincey. I know who you are.” Tora’s phone began to buzz in his pocket, calling to the last sensible place in his brain. It vibrated wildly before going quiet again. _One_ , he thought dully.

“No, you’re right,” Quincey agreed. Tora lifted his head. “I’m not like my father.” He squatted beside Tora, meeting his eyes. “I’m _better_ than my father.” Quincey gave a small nod and a man emerged from the darkness behind Poppy. He was skeletal and tall, doused in tattoos, his mouth gnarled in a grim frown. Something silver flashed in his hand.

“Quincey,” Tora rasped as he watched the man circle Poppy. “Quincey, don’t do this. Don’t fucking do this.” Quincey hesitated, his focus still on Tora, before giving another careful nod. The man grabbed Poppy by the hair, violently tugging her head back towards him. He ran his blade quick and clean across her cheek, leaving behind a stroke of oozing red. Tora roared, his heart consumed by a white heat that flared from his chest into his limbs. He tore at his handcuffs violently, the metal digging into his skin.

“You sonofabitch!” he bellowed. “I’m gonna break every bone in your fucking body!” The man gave Poppy a ferocious shove and she fell to her knees, crumbling into a fetal position. Her face was ashen, her eyes clenched shut in pain.

“You know I don’t like to do the dirty work myself, so thank goodness I found Jiro,” Quincey said lightly, gesturing towards the gaunt man. “He gets a thrill out of playing with Poppy…”

“Especially since you killed my brother,” Jiro finished, his voice hollow as he cleaned the blood from his knife. Tora heaved with rage, his whole body churning like magma. His phone hummed against his thigh again and Quincey quirked a brow until it stopped. _Two_ , Tora counted.

“Poppy and Jiro have spent lots of quality time together since he snatched her from that dreadful tea parlor,” Quincey explained, refocusing on Poppy’s prone form. “His style is… _different_ from my own, but you have to admit that it’s effective. Oh and don’t worry about that old hag you like to play mommy with. Lucky for her, she wasn’t home.” Tora gave Jiro one sharp look before leveling his gaze at Quincey.

“Quincey.” Tora’s voice was a haunted whisper; it was the murmur of a man possessed. The room fell icily still, the guards suddenly hesitant. A demon spoke through Tora, burning and brutal. “I’m going to tear your heart out of your fucking chest.” It wasn’t a threat – it was a quiet promise. Tora could see the tremor in Quincey’s shoulders and the way he swallowed down his panic.

“Charming,” Quincey said slowly. “I’d say I’m about to do the same to you.”

Jiro reared towards Poppy and grasped her ponytail, throwing her onto her back, her eyes closed tight as she screamed through her gag. Tora let out a ferocious battle cry and lunged towards her, anxious to throw his body over hers in protection. Two guards barely contained him as he writhed, nearly foaming at the mouth, tugging against his restraints. Jiro’s face remained implacable as he undid his belt and hunched between Poppy’s legs, lifting her skirt. Her panties were gone and Tora thrashed harder at the sight of her so utterly exposed. He shouted every obscenity he could think of.

“Is that how you two talk in your lovemaking?” Quincey asked coyly. “Well at least she’ll be used to a little roughness.” Poppy wriggled and tried to kick, but Jiro held her down easily, his fingers digging into her thighs.

“Poppy!” Tora begged. “Poppy, look at me! Just look at me!” Her eyes popped open, her head tilted towards him. “Just keep looking at me. I’m right here.” He strained against his handcuffs, harder and harder, blind to everything but Poppy, even as Jiro pulled himself free of his pants.

“Look at me, kid,” Tora pleaded. “I love you, Pops. Do you hear me?” Jiro hovered above Poppy now, breathing close to her ear, but she saw only Tora, her head nodding in answer to his question.

“I love you, Poppy,” Tora said again. “I love you so fucking much. I’m right here.” Poppy winced as Jiro entered her, her focus still on Tora.

“Well this is oddly touching!” Quincey laughed. It took every ounce of Tora’s willpower to ignore the snide remark.

“I love you, Poppy. I’m right here.” The words fell from his mouth, over and over like a chant. There was no Jiro, pushing into Poppy; there was no Quincey, glowering as he watched; there was no one in the world save Tora and Poppy, together in that moment.

Tora’s phone quaked in his jeans and his throat tightened, Quincey spinning towards him in annoyance. _Three_ , Tora said to himself as the call ended.

“Who the fuck keeps calling you?!” Quincey shouted, irritated by the interruption. Tora said nothing, his amber eyes ferocious. Jiro stilled on top of Poppy as Quincey gestured to the guard behind Tora. “Check his phone.” The big man fished in Tora’s pocket and yanked out the cell, staring at the screen in befuddlement.

“Well?” Quincey asked impatiently. The guard turned the phone towards him. “Goliath…” His voice trailed off as he read the name.

“Quinceton,” Tora whispered. Quincey looked at him in shock. “You’re fucking dead.” 

Quincey gawked in confusion as the door behind Tora exploded into a thousand tiny fragments, the whole building quaking. Tora gave one final tug and his cuffs snapped in two, his wrists seeping blood. He felt nothing as he drove his elbow into the stomach of the guard behind him, twisting to land a brutal punch to his face. Tora reached for his gun as the man fell, planting a single bullet in his chest before reeling towards Poppy. Pandemonium erupted around him, Goliath and his men pouring through the destroyed door, easily taking out the unsuspecting guards. Several stray bullets nicked the fish tanks on either side of the table, both threatening to burst open, but Tora saw nothing, knew nothing, but Poppy.

Jiro was still above her, his hands wrapped tight around her neck as she thrashed. Tora took aim and sent a shot straight into Jiro’s shoulder. His skin burst open as he careened off of Poppy with a howl. Tora raced to Poppy, draping himself over her as he held her face. Her eyes fluttered open and Tora ripped the gag from her mouth, working his hands behind her back to loosen her restraints.

“Tora!” Poppy screamed.

Jiro tackled Tora and the two went tumbling, Tora’s gun skidding away as they both scrambled for the upper hand. Jiro swiped his knife and left a cut in Tora’s chest, Poppy wailing as she wiggled herself from her bindings. She was on her feet in a flash, taking hold of Jiro’s long braid and yanking it back with all her might. He yelped and slashed at Poppy, his blade finding her arm. She released him as blood trickled down her sleeve, Tora’s vision turning red. He gave one solid kick to Jiro’s crotch and the man fell, shrieking as Tora smashed his boot down on the spot again, his manhood obliterated. He straddled Jiro’s torso and grasped his tattooed throat, squeezing for everything; for the blood and the pain and the horror in Poppy’s face. He squeezed intently, even as Jiro bucked beneath him, until the bones in his neck cracked like twigs. Jiro shivered, his eyes bulging, before his whole body fell slack.

Tora climbed off of Jiro’s corpse and rushed to Poppy’s side. She sat dazed on the floor, clutching her injured arm. Tora pressed one hand to her bloody cheek and used the other to put pressure on her wound. She was blinking rapidly, her skin clammy and her breathing shallow.

“Get me some fucking help!” Tora yelled towards Goliath. The battle was over, the restaurant blanketed in dead bodies and uneaten food, the carpet sopping wet from where the fish tanks leaked. One of Goliath’s men detached himself from the pack and came towards Poppy, clutching a bag. Tora realized numbly that Quincey was gone.

“Poppy,” Tora said, grasping her shoulder as Goliath’s man went to work, peeling the fabric from her arm. “Look at me, Pops. Look at me. You’re OK. You’re OK.” His voice was calm, even as his stomach roiled. She met his eyes and nodded. “You’re so brave,” Tora whispered. “You’re so brave.”

The two sat huddled until Poppy’s arm was cleaned and wrapped. It was only a superficial wound, doing no real damage beyond a scar. Tora gritted his teeth when he thought of all the cuts and bruises she had earned since meeting him. Her neck, her nose, her face – the slash on her cheek was sure to leave another permanent mark. The sight of Poppy, half-naked and pale, shivering in fear and shock, made him want to set the whole building, the whole city, the whole world on fire. He would find Quincey and he would gut him, slowly and painfully. But he would take care of Poppy first; he would do whatever it took to make her whole again.

Poppy didn’t protest when Tora lifted her into his arms, his own injuries forgotten. The torn handcuffs still dangled from his wrists and his shirt was dark with blood. He couldn’t feel anything but Poppy clinging to his chest, her head pressed so tight against his neck that Tora thought she was trying to become part of him. She made no sound save her tiny breaths, each one a small, reassuring gift to Tora.

“You should get those cuffs off,” Goliath said as Tora carried Poppy towards the door. Goliath’s men watched them warily, Tora oblivious to their narrowed eyes.

“Just get the fuckin’ car,” he said quietly. Goliath scowled but gave a nod to one of his men. The man disappeared, reemerging a minute later in a black SUV. Tora gently sat Poppy in the backseat and climbed in after her. “Go,” he told the driver, drawing Poppy into his lap, his arms wrapped around her tight as the city whirred past the tinted windows.


	28. Twenty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is sappy. No, I am not sorry.

**_He said I'm gonna buy this place and burn it down_ **

**_I'm gonna put it six feet underground_ **

**_He said I'm gonna buy this place and watch it fall_ **

**_Stand here beside me baby, in the crumbling walls._ **

**_Oh, I'm gonna buy this place and start a fire_ **

**_Stand here until I fill all your heart's desires_ **

**_Because I'm gonna buy this place and see it burn_ **

**_Do back the things it did to you in return._ **

_Coldplay, "A Rush of Blood to the Head"_

Twenty-Eight

Poppy stood cold and unfeeling in a living room she didn’t know. Tora moved around her in a blur, talking to unfamiliar men in dark coats, his eyes constantly darting back to her. He had called this place a safe house, but Poppy wasn’t sure if anywhere would ever feel safe again. Everything was coming back to her in horrifying scraps, slowly fracturing her icy shock. Jiro’s face snarled in her memory and she felt him crawling over every inch of her skin, smacking her, choking her, entering her. Her body’s numb aches bloomed in answer to her visions, growing into sharp, relentless pain. Her mind danced between light and dark, blinding her with stark images before plunging her into murky, unknowable depths.

“Poppy.” She jumped when Tora touched her arm. _My arm_ , she thought. _Something happened to my arm._ Tora’s face was blank but his eyes flickered with anger. “Come on, kid,” he said softly before guiding her down a dim hallway. He ushered her into a small, pristine bathroom and closed the door behind them. The countertops were a clean white marble, veined with black and topped with shiny gold fixtures. _Safe_ , Poppy thought. _Safe._

“Pops,” Tora whispered, waiting until she looked at him. Her pupils were huge, her expression haunted. Tora brushed his fingers against the cut on her cheek and she wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to do _something_ , but there was only a yawning hollowness in her chest, drawing every part of her down into it like quicksand.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Tora’s face fell.

“Don’t,” Tora said, his jaw tight. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“But you’re angry…”

“Poppy,” Tora interrupted. He stooped to meet her gaze, enveloping her face in his large hands. “None of this is your fault, OK? None of it.”

“But Quincey…”

“ _Fuck. Quincey_.” Tora’s tone grew savage, his fury barely contained beneath his battered flesh. He took a calming breath before going on. “You did nothing wrong, Poppy. _Nothing_. Don’t you dare apologize for what he did to you.” Poppy bit her lip and nodded, her body growing heavy with sudden exhaustion. She wanted to slump into Tora’s arms and sleep there for a week, but something held her upright and distant.

“Tora,” she said. “Are you…I mean, will you…” She didn’t know how to ask; there was no vocabulary for how she felt. “Are you…disgusted by me, now that I’m…broken?” Tora looked at her as if she were a ghost.

 _“What?”_ he asked, his voice cracking. “Poppy, you are not fuckin’ broken.”

“But he was…inside of me. I feel like a monster.” Tora took a step towards Poppy and she reached for him without thought, placing her palms over the deep grooves the handcuffs had left in his wrists. 

“Listen to me, Poppy,” Tora said intently. “You’re not the monster – you’re the _slayer_. OK?” She nodded and her tears began to flow. “I love you. I love you so fucking much. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

“I love you, too,” she choked through her sobs, falling against Tora’s body. He buried his face in her hair, holding her for several long minutes before pulling away.

“C’mon, kid,” he said, his voice strained. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Tora filled the claw foot tub, the room growing misty with a gentle steam. Poppy tried to carefully peel off her clothes, wincing as she lifted her injured arm. Tora pushed her hands away and slipped her ruined shirt over her head before unclasping her bloodstained bra. He tenderly removed her skirt, cursing under his breath as he revealed each of her battle scars. Her knees were bruised, purple and red, as were her breasts and neck. Her cheek was still swollen from Goro, the bump accentuated by the cut from his brother. Her legs were equally marred, a bit of dried blood caked on her inner thighs. Tora balled his fists until they were white as snow.

He helped Poppy step into the bath and she lowered herself gingerly, hissing at the water’s heat. She wrapped her elbows around her knees instinctively, trying to disappear into a tiny speck. Tora ran a warm washcloth over her back until she loosened, letting him clean her arms, legs, and chest, careful not to soak her bandages. He worked calmly and purposefully, asking Poppy if she was OK as he lathered her thighs, waiting until she said yes before pushing higher. He shampooed her hair and dropped handfuls of water onto her head, Poppy moaning as he doused her face. She felt raw and clear, devoid of both good and bad. She felt human.

Tora dressed her in clothes she vaguely recognized as her own, her pride too shriveled to protest. Some detached part of her balked at the way he was babying her, his eyes constantly on her face. But the watchfulness didn’t frighten Poppy; if anything, it kept her afloat, drifting in an otherwise unrecognizable sea. _Safe_. The word echoed through the cave of her brain. _Safe. Safe. Safe._ Tora would keep her safe. Wouldn’t he?

“Tora,” Poppy said as he led her into a spacious room, the bed in the center so grand and lush that it reminded Poppy of a gilded cloud. He turned to look at her, his brows raised. “You’re right.”

“About what?” he asked.

“All of these bad things…they would have never happened if I hadn’t met you.” Tora swallowed hard. “But you didn’t make them happen.” She was talking to him as much as she was talking to herself.

“I guess we’re a fuckin’ mess,” Tora breathed, his eyes wet.

“I guess we are,” she answered before standing on her toes to kiss him.

Poppy climbed beneath the thick white comforter and melted into the sheets, her limbs like lead. Tora stood beside her, brushing the stray hairs from her face. Her stomach grumbled and she clutched it in embarrassment, trying to remember the last time she had eaten anything. She realized that she was unsure of the day or the time; she didn’t even know where she was or how she had gotten there. A car? A train? And who were all of those men? The questions began to pile on top of her waning consciousness.

“Are you hungry?” Tora asked. Poppy nodded. “I’ll get you something to eat.” He planted a kiss on her forehead before walking towards the door.

“Tora?” Poppy said with her last bit of strength.

“Yeah, kid?” He turned to look at her, silhouetted by the light from the hall.

“Tell me again,” she murmured. His lips quirked.

“I love you,” he said. 

“I love you, too, Tora,” she whispered before drifting to sleep.


	29. Twenty-Nine

**_Bleeding, I'm bleeding_ **

**_My cold little heart_ **

**_Oh I, I can't stand myself_ **

_Michael Kiwanuka, "Cold Little Heart"_

Twenty-Nine

Tora had no idea what he was doing. He sat in a chair beside Poppy’s bed, watching her and cracking his knuckles until they swelled. He didn’t know what time it was or how long he had been there; he only remembered coming back to the room to find Poppy in a dead sleep, the sight of her so perfect and heartbreaking. He had let one of Goliath’s men patch up his chest and wrists, and he was certain that there would be a large bump on the back of his head for weeks. But there was no other human need that he could bring himself to meet, not as he served his vigil. There was no level of hunger or exhaustion that could pull him from Poppy’s side.

“You should get some rest,” Goliath said from the doorway. 

“I’m fine,” Tora grumbled. _You’re not fine_ , he told himself, _but neither is she_.

“The chivalry is impressive, really,” Goliath joked. “But you’re no good to her like this. You’re one cranky sonofabitch when you’re tired…”

“I’m not leavin’ her,” Tora said, his tone final. He shot Goliath an icy glare. “This may be your territory, but you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Alright, fine,” Goliath answered lightly, his hands thrown up in defeat. “I mean, a simple thank you would be nice…” Tora snarled, his shoulders growing tense. Goliath swallowed hard. “Or not. But you have to admit that it was one helluva rescue mission. How’d you know Quincey was behind all of this?”

“I didn’t,” Tora said quietly. “I just had a feeling that somethin’ wasn’t right with him. I never knew it would end up like this.” His final word was barely audible. He studied Poppy intently, unsure if he should move closer or stay away. She brought out a fierce protectiveness in him, as well as something soft and nurturing, something he didn’t know he was capable of.

“Well the phone trick was damn good,” Goliath said, oblivious to Tora’s seriousness. “I knew somethin’ was up when you didn’t answer the first time. I didn’t even need to make the other calls.”

“That’s great, Goliath,” Tora mumbled distractedly. Goliath watched him for a minute before finally getting the hint.

“I’ll leave you two,” he said, turning back towards the hall. He stopped when Tora spoke.

“How’d you get your guys to go along with it?” Tora asked, Goliath’s face splitting into a wide grin.

“Are you kiddin? They’ll take any chance to get rid of a few Balthuman boys.”

Tora waited for Goliath to go before turning back to Poppy. She was so tiny in the huge bed, dwarfed by the enormous comforter. In some strange way, she reminded Tora of Sara, of her stubbornness and bravery; she was that same blend of mighty and small. Tora thought dully of what Quincey had said about Sara. _Don’t worry about that old hag you like to play mommy with. Lucky for her, she wasn’t home._ Tora had sent one of Goliath’s men to her shop to make sure she was OK, but the man had yet to come back. If Quincey had done something to Sara…

Quincey. The name was branded on Tora’s waking brain. The towheaded boy from his youth; the gentle, delicate brother; the narcissist of a man who was afraid to squash spiders. How had he become so vile, so awful, so dangerous? Tora wondered numbly if he had some influence on Quincey, if maybe Quincey had seen his relentless violence and realized that it somehow got Tora what he wanted. It was the world Quincey had been brought up in, especially by his father. Bloodshed had its perks.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tora breathed, clutching his head. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

There was no excuse. The person Quincey had once been was now gone, vanished the second he decided that Poppy was something he was owed. Tora had failed Poppy; he had promised to keep her safe and he had utterly failed her. She was irrevocably scarred, physically and mentally, carrying a burden she didn’t deserve. Tora couldn’t change that, no matter how tight he shut his eyes, willing the memories into delusions. It all remained real: Goro and Jiro, Quincey and Goliath, and Poppy’s pain above all else. It was as real as his skin and bones, as real as his breath. 

“I’ll find him, Pops,” Tora whispered to Poppy’s sleeping form. “And I’ll bring you his head on a silver platter.”

* * *

Tora drifted in and out of a fitful doze. He dreamt of Poppy falling down a well, one far too deep for him to descend. When he woke, she was watching him, her head perched on a pillow, her eyes soft. Tora jumped to his feet and took hold of one of her cold hands. He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her.

“I won’t break,” Poppy said. Tora’s heart cracked.

“I don’t wanna make things worse,” he explained, running his thumb along her fingers. She gave him a paltry smile and they gazed at each other, trying to read the emotions in each other’s eyes.

“Where are we?” Poppy asked.

“A safe house.”

“But where?” she wondered.

“I honestly don’t know,” Tora answered truthfully. He hadn’t paid any attention to where Goliath’s driver had taken them; he had only been able to stare at Poppy as she shivered in his lap.

“How do you know it’s really safe?” The question detonated every anxious fiber of Tora’s being. _She doesn’t trust me_ , he thought.

“Because Goliath knows I’ll murder him if anything happens to you,” he said. “And he has enough sense to be scared of me.”

“Should Quincey be scared of you?” Poppy asked timidly.

“Yes,” Tora answered in a ferocious whisper, his blood boiling. “Quincey should be very fuckin’ scared of me.”

“And me?” Poppy squeaked. Tora’s temperature dropped and his body went slack. “Should I be scared of you?”

“ _No_ ,” he breathed, his voice turning husky. “Poppy, I would never, ever do anything to hurt you. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” she said meekly. “I feel like I’ve done something wrong, like maybe I deserved this.” Tora stayed as still as possible, using every bit of his strength to contain his rage.

“Poppy,” he said, hesitating before scooting closer to her. He placed a hand on her cheek and she burrowed into his palm. “You did nothin’ wrong, not a single fuckin’ thing. And you certainly don’t deserve what happened to you. If anything, I deserve it.” Poppy’s eyes grew wide. “I’d take every ounce of your pain if I could. I fucked up. I said I’d keep you safe and I didn’t. I’ll spend forever tryin’ to make that right. But I swear to God…I swear to fuckin’ God…I would never hurt you. Never.” Tora hung on the edge of a great precipice, his whole existence teetering on whatever Poppy said next. He would understand if she tried to push him away, but she couldn’t keep him from guarding her life with his own.

“I believe you,” she said. Tora’s heart bounded forward in his chest as if it were trying to reach her. “But what do we do now?”

“We find Quincey,” Tora answered through his teeth, “and we make him pay.”


	30. Announcement

**Hi everyone!**

**I realize that making an announcement like this on a piece of fan fiction may come across as self-important, but you all have been so wonderful and supportive that I thought it only fair to be transparent. First of all, thank you - I don't think I will ever be able to say this enough. Whether you took the time to leave comments or simply clicked on my story, your encouragement has been invaluable to me. I didn't know if I would ever be able to write something that I was so passionate about and still have people enjoy it, so thank you for confirming that truth for me. You guys are endlessly amazing.**

**Unfortunately, with my semester starting on Monday (and with grad school being such a huge time-suck), I will have to return to the pace of the real world. Trust me, I do NOT want to. Can't I just write about Tora and Poppy forever? On top of that, my depression has been getting worse. It's something that I've dealt with since I was 16, but that never seems to make it any easier. I've had a hard time concentrating as I wrote these last few chapters and I apologize profusely if the quality was lacking. I'm just struggling right now.**

**BUT! I am not abandoning this story! NO WAY! This community brings me so much joy and I need every bit of happiness that I can get right now. This simply means that I won't be able to post new chapters every day. The updates will likely be once a week from here on out (although I may crank something out tonight or tomorrow, depending on how I'm feeling). I have so many plans and ideas and I am anxious to share them, so I hope it will all be worth the wait. Again, you all have been so awesome in sticking with me over this past month, and I hope you'll continue to stick with me!**

**OK. I think that's all for now. As you can see, I'm a pretty open book, so feel free to leave questions, comments, whatever.**

**Love you all!**

**Amy**


	31. Thirty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I know I said updates will likely fall to once a week, and that will probably be true as my semester progresses. But for now, I am still going to keep writing whenever I can. I'm so happy that I gave myself the freedom to post less frequently, though, because then I have more time to edit and refine, and hopefully that will be evident in this chapter. 
> 
> I know I've told most of you individually, but thank you all again for being so lovely and supportive to someone you hardly know. It gives me a lot of hope for both myself and humanity in general. I'm so fortunate to have all of you.

**_In dreams_ **

**_I'm moving through heavy water_ **

**_The love is enormous_ **

**_It's lifting me up_ **

**_I'd rather be sleeping_ **

**_I'd rather fall into tidal waves_ **

**_And go where the deepest currents go_ **

_Grouper, "Heavy Water/I'd Rather Be Sleeping"_

Thirty-One

“Honestly, Quincey, what were you thinking?”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that Goliath was still alive?”

“Don’t you talk to me like that!”

Quincey cowered in his seat, stooped like a sullen child. His father loomed above him, collected on the outside but seething just below the surface. Quincey didn’t want to ask his father for help; he hadn’t even wanted to tell him about Tora and Poppy in the first place. But everything had deteriorated at a breakneck pace, one Quincey wasn’t prepared for. He had been lucky to make it out alive, dodging bullets as he frantically raced to his car in the restaurant’s narrow alley. He drove to his father’s house in tears, not knowing if he was frightened or mad.

“Tora was one of my best men,” Vincent Balthuman said to himself, absently swirling a tumbler of whiskey. “I trained him myself.”

“Did you even hear me?!” Quincey yelled. “I almost died because of him and that traitor Goliath!”

“Well did you really think you could best Tora?” Vincent asked, purposely goading Quincey. Quincey gawked at his father before throwing himself back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. The conference room was empty, the polished table stretching like an endless valley. 

“Why does everyone keep asking that?” Quincey pouted. “I’m so fucking sick of everyone praising Tora. ‘Oh, Tora’s so strong. Oh, Tora’s so handsome. Oh, I wanna fuck Tora instead of Quincey.’”

“Stop acting like a fucking child, Quincey,” his father spat. “Is that what this is all about? You’re jealous of Tora and that whore from the restaurant? Do you know how many good men you cost me?!”

“Oh you’ll find others,” Quincey said with a flippant wave. “And yes, that _is_ what this is all about! _I’m_ the Balthuman, not him!” Vincent carefully set down his glass and leaned into Quincey’s chair, trapping his son with an arm on either side of his head. Quincey shriveled into a helpless heap.

“If you truly want to be a Balthuman, then you need to start _acting_ like a Balthuman,” Vincent said through his teeth, his face inches from Quincey’s. “We do not get upset over some piece of ass, and we certainly do not try to take out one of our best men without cause.”

“But he stole her from me!” Quincey cried.

“That’s enough, Quincey!” his father roared. “There are billions of women on this planet! But what am I supposed to do about Tora? You have no idea where he is or who he’s working with – all you know is that you’ve made him mad! Do you realize what you’ve done, Quincey? Do you realize what happens when you poke a fucking bear?” Quincey shook his head and his father snarled. “You’ve started a fucking war.” He pushed himself away from the chair and turned his back on Quincey, running his fingers through his silver hair.

“He’s no one,” Quincey said softly. “He’s a junkyard dog and we’re fucking royalty. He doesn’t stand a chance against us.”

“Us?” Vincent looked at Quincey from the corner of his eye. “What makes you so sure I’m going to help you with this, especially after you disobeyed me about getting rid of the girl?” Quincey swallowed hard, the familiar feeling of helplessness rearing its ugly head. He was vulnerable and exposed, suddenly desperate for someone to protect him. Of course there was no one now, no one but Quincey and his mistakes.

“You said it yourself,” Quincey answered, “this is a war. Would you really let your only son fight a war on his own?” Vincent studied him intently.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he finally said. “But I suggest you prove yourself useful in this, Quinceton. Balthumans do not fail.”

Quincey nodded once, his heart throbbing.

“I won’t fail,” he said. “Not again.”

* * *

The next few days were tense as Tora and Poppy tried to navigate their new roles in a strange place. Goliath and his men had vacated the house after the first long night, but two guards remained stationed by the doors at all times. Their unfamiliarity would have ordinarily made Tora anxious, but he was too focused on Poppy to notice much else. He floated close to her constantly, helping her to move even when she seemed capable of doing so on her own. She tried to don a brave face, but Tora saw through the façade: she was in intense pain, pain like she had never known before. He had survived more hurts than he could count, but Poppy wasn’t accustomed to the sharp fires that radiated through her body. Her bruises yellowed and her cuts darkened to a deep maroon; she was healing, but slowly.

For all of his proximity, Tora was terrified to touch Poppy more than necessary, and she didn’t ask him to do so; there were no kisses or requests to join her in bed. Sex was the furthest thing from Tora’s mind, but he longed to hold her, as if he could keep her intact. The horror of her injuries had been replaced by the horror of her potential rejection. What if she changed her mind? What if this was all too much for her? What if she didn’t love him anymore? Tora didn’t know how love worked; he didn’t know if it could be so easily retracted. His own heart remained steadfast, and his promise of safety would never waver, but the thought of losing Poppy tore a hole clean through his chest. And so he watched and he waited, hoping his presence would remind her of who they were when they were together.

On a particularly rainy afternoon, Goliath came to the house unannounced, a wicked gleam in his eyes. The sight of him still put Tora on edge, but he couldn’t hold his past grudge too tightly, not when Goliath had been so instrumental in saving Poppy’s life. The two sat on the living room’s leather sofa as if they were teenagers again, talking in a combination of insults and jabs. Poppy was fast asleep in the bedroom, Tora having checked on her at least half a dozen times since Goliath’s arrival.

“You’ve got it bad,” Goliath joked. Tora gave him a solid punch to the shoulder, Goliath wincing as he clutched the spot. “What the hell was that for?!”

“I don’t got anything bad,” Tora mumbled.

“The hell you don’t!” Goliath balked, scooting out of Tora’s range. “She’s turned you into a mother hen. You’ve gone to check on her, like, ten times.”

“She’s been through a lot, OK?” Tora growled as he lit a cigarette. “She’s not used to this shit.”

“Hey, no judgement,” Goliath said, smiling. “I mean, she’s not really my type, but I wouldn’t mind…”

“Finish that thought and your fuckin’ dead,” Tora interrupted. Goliath quickly clamped his mouth shut. “Remind me why you’re here again.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation, pain blooming in his temple.

“Oh ho,” Goliath said with mischievous glee. “I’m here to help you get revenge!”

“Revenge?” Tora asked skeptically. “No fuckin’ way, Goliath. This is between me and Quincey.”

“What?!” Goliath yelled. “Look, I know you and I have had our problems, but what Quincey did is unforgivable. You don’t fuck with someone’s girl. It’s part of the code.”

“The code?” Tora repeated with a raised brow. “And I’d say what happened between us was more than just a ‘problem.’”

“Yeah, the code,” Goliath answered. “Some things are just off limits, even to that entitled prick. And you’re not allowed to hold that shit against me anymore, not since I helped you out.” Tora frowned but found that he didn’t have the energy to argue.

“I thought you wanted out after this,” he said, his elbows resting on his knees. Goliath drained him. 

“Yeah, but that’s before I forgot how much fun this shit is!” Tora glared at Goliath, who practically bounced on the sofa like a toddler with a new toy. He had always been reckless, a trait that Tora both hated and admired. 

“Fun?” Tora asked. “You think any of this is fuckin’ fun? You think Poppy’s havin’ fuckin’ fun? You think Sara’s havin’ fuckin fun?” Goliath’s face fell.

A few days earlier, Sara had come home to three of Goliath’s brutish men standing in her kitchen, demanding she come with them to the safe house until she started brandishing her shotgun like a torch. Tora had smiled uncontrollably when they reported back on her whereabouts and how she had shouted “You’ll move a fuckin’ mountain before you move me!” Goliath had begrudgingly sent two guards to keep an eye on her, but Tora knew she loathed the constant surveillance. She was a firm believer in her ability to take care of herself, even if she couldn’t this time.

“You know what I mean,” Goliath said with a shred of shame. “It’s like the old days.”

“Yeah, only this time Quincey’s the one we’re shootin’ at.” Tora heaved a mighty sigh and stubbed out his cigarette, the smoke still hanging in the air. His brain felt like glass, fractured and brittle. “No, Goliath,” he finally said. “I’m goin’ to Balthuman’s, and I’m goin’ alone.”

“No you’re not.” The two men spun towards the door where Poppy stood small and pale, swimming in one of Tora’s hoodies. Tora rushed to her side. 

“Are you OK?” he asked, running a hand over her arm. “Do you need somethin’? Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine, Tora,” she answered, quickly casting her gaze in Goliath’s direction. “I don’t know what you two are talking about, but you’re not going anywhere by yourself.”

“Poppy…” Tora began.

“I’m serious,” Poppy said. “I know you’re used to doing things on your own, and I know you think you’re tough, but you need help. So either he goes with you…or I do.” Goliath chuckled from the sofa.

“Sweetheart,” Goliath started, “do you really think that’s a good idea?” Tora shot him a thunderous look.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” Poppy said as she squared her shoulders, but Tora could hear her doubt.

“Poppy,” Tora repeated. “Let me take care of this. I’ll do better on my own.”

“No!” Poppy shouted. Tora recoiled, incredulous. “I can’t lose you. You thought you almost lost me, didn’t you? Do you want me to go through that same feeling?” She was crying now, wiping her nose on her oversized sleeve. Tora blinked at her dumbly, trying to process her words. He wouldn’t wish that feeling on almost anyone, least of all Poppy.

“You’re not going to lose me, Pops,” he whispered, desperate to hug her.

“You’re right,” she sniffed, “I’m not, because you’re taking Goliath with you. And _you_ ,” she pivoted towards Goliath with a raised finger. “If anything happens to him, you’ll have to deal with me.” Goliath tried to look solemn but his lips curled at the edges. Poppy gave him one last squint before walking purposefully towards the kitchen.

“I like her,” Goliath laughed. Tora couldn’t help but smirk.

* * *

After Goliath left, Tora crept down the hall to check on Poppy. She had spent a long while rummaging through the kitchen, Tora tempted to go in and help her yet hesitant to smother her any further than he already had. Now she was tucked back under the large comforter, the sheer expanse of it rendering her nearly unreachable. _I can’t lose you_ , she had said, but Tora didn’t know the source of her fear.

“You can come in,” she said to Tora as he perched in the doorway. He sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do with his hands. “What did you and Goliath plan?”

“We’ve gotta go to Balthuman’s,” he explained. “Quincey had to go runnin’ to his dad for help.”

“Do you think that’s smart?” Poppy asked. Tora raised his brows. “I mean, won’t they be waiting for you? And aren’t there lots of them?”

“Kid, I know that place like the back of my hand,” Tora said, trying to ease her worry. “And I know Balthuman like the back of my hand, too. His tricks aren’t tricks if you know they’re comin’.” 

“But there’s only two of you…” Poppy trailed off, lost in her thoughts. “Can’t you take more men with you?”

“That’s what they’ll expect,” Tora answered, hesitantly placing his hand over Poppy’s. “We’ll get around easier if it’s just the two of us.” Poppy gave him a small smile but he knew she wasn’t convinced. He wasn’t sure if he was fully convinced, either, but he wasn’t about to let Quincey escape.

“Well you’re the one with the experience in this,” Poppy admitted. “I guess I have to go along with it, even if I don’t like it. I don’t suppose I could convince you to give it all up, to let Quincey go?” Tora shook his head, his eyes huge and unblinking.

“ _After what he did to you?”_ he asked in horror. “No, Poppy, I can’t give it all up. He’ll come for us if we don’t come for him.”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Poppy whispered, unable to meet Tora’s gaze.

“I know you are, Pops, and I’m tryin’ to do the same for you.” Tora hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her head. Her cheeks were wet with tears. A current passed between them, an electric shock that Tora felt from his stomach to his toes. An energy hummed off of Poppy, threatening to explode.

“Tora,” she breathed. “Why won’t you touch me?”

“Pops,” he said, his voice husky, “I’m touchin’ you right now.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she sobbed in frustration. “You won’t kiss me, you won’t lay in bed with me…I disgust you, don’t I?” A whirring built in Tora’s ears, like a massive ocean of disbelief.

“Kid,” he choked. “I’m terrified of doin’ those things because I don’t wanna hurt you. I don’t wanna make things worse. I thought you’d tell me when you were ready…”

“Well I’m ready now,” she interrupted vehemently. “I need you to kiss me before I fall apart.”

Tora pressed his lips to hers, swallowing her last words. He wanted to be savage, to make up for all of the anger and hurt that they both so obviously felt. But Poppy needed tenderness; she needed affection to remind her that her body was still a place to be loved. His hands held her face delicately, his tongue lightly exploring the shape of her mouth. She was softer than he remembered, softer than any version of her that he could conjure in his imagination. His fingers found the zipper of the hoodie, pulling it down achingly slow.

“Are you sure?” he asked, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I’m sure,” she said with a nod. “I’m absolutely sure.”

Tora slipped the hoodie from Poppy’s arms, careful of her bandage; he was shocked to find her bare underneath. He ran one hand over her shoulder and up her neck, following with little kisses, as his other cupped her breast, mindful of the bruises that still lingered there. His touch was a breath on her skin, a feather-soft tribute to all that she was. He brushed his mouth over her collarbone and down her chest, his tongue lazily circling her nipple before bringing it into his mouth, suckling her gently. Poppy’s head dropped back in pleasure, her fingers wrapped in his hair as she guided him lower. Tora gave her a wolfish grin as he climbed onto the bed, removing her sweatpants and panties. He buried his face between her thighs, his tongue working a glowing magic over her clit, flicking back and forth. She twitched when he sealed his mouth over her, sucking intently. He began to push a finger inside when Poppy suddenly let out a cry of pain, trying to clamp her legs shut. Tora pulled away from her in a panic.

“Pops!” he yelled, crawling up her body. “What? What is it?” Her face was hidden behind her hands. “Did I hurt you? Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she sobbed, her voice muffled. “I just…I just saw him, and felt him…inside of me.” Tora’s body turned to stone, afraid that any movement would shatter them both. There were no words for the volcano of rage that erupted inside of him.

“Poppy,” he breathed, drawing her against his chest. She wound her arms around his sturdy form. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I’m right here.”

“Don’t leave,” she begged. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, Pops,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m right here.”


	32. Thirty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an interesting exercise for me because I'm not used to writing a lot of action. Feel free to let me know if it works or not! 
> 
> Also! I completely forgot that I did this, but I was inspired by some of you to make a playlist for my story. It includes a lot of the songs whose lyrics I've featured here, and it definitely has a decidedly darker tone, but so does this story: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2ddSrsNMpPULiQ23v3s9AZ?si=1SbvZsaZTPqa1y6dz1KFQQ 
> 
> Hopefully that link works! I don't use Spotify a lot.

**_Kids wanna be so hard_ **

**_But in my dreams we're still screamin'_ **

**_And runnin' through the yard_ **

_Arcade Fire, "The Suburbs"_

Thirty-Two

“Are you sure you can trust Goliath?” Poppy’s ear was pressed to Tora’s chest, the steady pulse of his heart like an ocean wave. “I mean, he’s betrayed you before. Couldn’t he do it again?”

Tora said nothing. He hugged Poppy closer to him, memorizing every minute detail of her body. The smell of her hair, the feel of her skin, the way her voice tapered off into nothing when she was worried. He had learned the language of her so quickly, as if it had always been innate to him, but there were still things he couldn’t decipher. He was telling her goodbye, preparing to head to Balthuman’s with Goliath, and the most sentimental part of him sent a prayer to any god that was listening: _please let me come back. I still have so much more to do._

“I don’t know,” Tora admitted quietly, glancing at Goliath who stood just out of earshot. “But he’s the only option I’ve got.” He felt like he was abandoning Poppy; they had spent the last week in constant proximity to one another, hovering close like a planet and its moon. Now Tora was leaving her in an unfamiliar house with unfamiliar guards. He hated the scenario, but he couldn’t see a way around it.

“Just…be careful,” Poppy said, pulling away to look up at him. “Please.” Her eyes were glassy but resolute. Tora placed his hand on her cheek, trying to absorb some of her conviction.

“I never was very good at bein’ careful,” he answered, “but I’ll try.” His lips found hers, both of them full of hunger and promise, and underneath it all the sad softness of desperation.

“Can we fuckin’ go?” Goliath chimed in from the front door, breaking the sweet spell. Poppy blanched but Tora ignored him.

“I’ll see you soon, kid,” he whispered to Poppy, their faces close. He planted one final kiss on her forehead before untangling their limbs. _The faster I leave_ , he thought, _the easier it will be._ He grabbed his jacket and hat as he strode towards Goliath, turning back only once to send Poppy a confident wink. He disappeared with Goliath into the night, a shadow returning to the darkness.

* * *

Balthuman’s compound was located uncomfortably close to the safe house. Tora had finally gotten his bearings of the area he and Poppy were staying in: it was quiet but ritzy, meant for people with money who didn’t like to talk about where it all came from. The Balthuman estate was as nondescript as any other building from the front, but Tora was intimately acquainted with the opulence of the interior. The grand entry; the handsome library; the crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and gold accents that reeked of unchecked wealth. And in the center of the home, an open-air courtyard accented by a bubbling koi pond.

“That’s it,” Tora had told Goliath when they discussed their plan. “That’s our way in.”

“Oh sure,” Goliath had answered sarcastically. “We’ll just have a fuckin’ helicopter drop us in with a couple of parachutes. Great plan.”

“Or,” Tora had growled through his teeth, “we can access the roof from another building and climb down, you dumbass.” Goliath had rolled his eyes but said little else.

The night was cold, the grey sky threatening an early season snow. The city was eerily quiet and calm, as if it, too, was holding its breath. Tora and Goliath approached the street on foot and ascended an alley fire escape a few houses removed from Balthuman’s. Unlike the homes in the country with their sharply slanted hidden roofs, the tight right angles of the metropolitan architecture made the journey easy for the two men. Tora knew that Vincent Balthuman was a cautious man, but he was too arrogant to be a paranoid one. There would be guards stationed at all of the main entrances, but never in the courtyard.

As they reached the aperture from above, Tora threw out an arm and Goliath stilled. They listened carefully, hearing only the churning of the water below. The earthy aroma of the late-fall chrysanthemums wafted up to them, the scent dancing on the frigid air. Tora dropped to his stomach and Goliath followed, both crawling to the edge of the opening to peer down. The space was empty and dark aside from a few red lanterns glimmering like fireflies. Tora gave Goliath a pointed look before rolling over the lip of the roof and lowering himself to the veranda below. The structure creaked under his weight as he beckoned to Goliath with a hand. What had been simple for Tora’s long body proved more difficult for Goliath, who landed with a heavy crash. The two froze, waiting for a response. There was nothing but the gulping of the mighty fish in the pond, their orange bodies skimming the surface.

“ _Careful_ ,” Tora mouthed to Goliath, his eyes narrowed. 

Their feet hit the grass with a muted thud and they threw themselves into the nearest corner, blending into the night. If Quincey was here, he would be in his childhood room near the kitchen. A memory drifted through Tora’s mind, one of him and Quincey as boys, waiting anxiously for dinner as the smells of food seeped through the house. Tora willed the moment away, even as his palms began to sweat. _He doesn’t exist anymore_ , Tora told himself. _That version of Quincey is gone._

The house was strangely lifeless, even for that time of night. It was late, but Tora knew that the Balthuman men worked on their own schedule, appreciating the cover of darkness as much as he did. Goliath stayed close to Tora as they crept through the long, polished halls, both of their guns poised for any surprises. Tora didn’t know what he planned to do when he found Quincey. He wanted to make him suffer; to cause him as much hurt as humanly possible. But he didn’t know if he could actually kill the man he had called brother, not when the act was so close at hand.

A door creaked open and Tora and Goliath stopped, their ears perked in the direction of the sound. Rapid footsteps clicked against the wood, moving towards them like a shark at sea. Tora and Goliath flung themselves into opposite alcoves, their guns cocked. They each pressed themselves deep into the shallow spaces, Tora suddenly wishing to be as small as Poppy. Poppy. Her name conjured her image in Tora’s brain and he shook his head quickly, trying to send it away.

The steps grew louder and more pronounced, the click becoming a stomp. Tora’s pulse was running lightning fast and sweat dripped down his back. He darted his eyes across the way to Goliath, who was nearly invisible in his hiding place. Closer and closer the person came, until the sound of the approach was deafening to Tora’s heightened senses. He thought he might explode from the worry and the wait. The steps were a few feet away now, the hall echoing the noise. Tora braced himself to spin, to shoot, to do whatever necessary to survive.

And then, as quickly as they had started, the footsteps stopped. Tora’s heart hammered, the air around him charged with an unknown presence. The person was hesitating, hanging around the corner as if to taunt him. He could see the outline of Goliath’s head but couldn’t read his face. Should he attack? Should he fight? For maybe the first time in his criminal life, Tora didn’t know what to do. His confidence was gone, replaced by the fear of never seeing Poppy again.

“I know you’re there,” a calm, deep voice said. Tora turned to ice. He saw Goliath shift, one foot poised to turn, and he readied himself to do the same. _Now!_ he yelled at himself. _NOW!_

“I know you’re there,” the person said again. “Yes, Jenny, I can hear you fine. I know you’re there.” Tora and Goliath stopped and listened. “Just let me get somewhere with better reception. This place is like a fuckin’ black hole.” The person started walking, passing Tora and Goliath as if they were mere statues. It was a large guard, his shoulders slumped, his head down as he tinkered with his phone. He turned a corner towards the courtyard and was gone. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Goliath whispered. Tora met his eyes, seeing his own fear reflected back at him. They were getting too old for this game.

They continued on with a greater urgency, anxious to be done and gone. Muffled opera music floated through the library door, Tora sure that Vincent was lost in one of his late night brainstorming sessions on how to gain more power, more money, more everything. He was tempted to stop and slit the man’s throat, but he couldn’t afford the distraction, not when Quincey was so close. They moved away from the room and found the double doors to Quincey’s quarters, the crack beneath them an inky black. Tora shot Goliath an apprehensive look before turning the knob, the metal clicking as it opened onto a sitting area.

The windows were swathed in heavy drapes, the lush furniture appearing grey in the gloom. A strand of yellow lamplight escaped the half open bedroom door on the far side of the space; the glow would have been welcoming had they been anywhere else. The men tiptoed across the thick carpeting, their eyes alert, their hackles raised. Tora pressed his body to the wall and slid over it, inching closer to where Quincey slept. He placed the muzzle of his gun against the wood of the door and pushed, the light pouring over him like honey.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tora breathed. The bed was empty and tidy, the corners tightly tucked. _Where the fuck is he?_ Tora thought.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Tora and Goliath reeled towards the voice, their weapons raised. Smithy stood in the doorway, his sleeves rolled, his face tired. He had been Vincent Balthuman’s money man and trusted confidant for longer than Tora had been alive, and that fact alone kept Tora’s gun at the ready.

“We’re not here for you, Smithy…” Tora started.

“I know who you’re here for,” Smithy interrupted. “But Quincey’s gone. You should have known that, Tora.”

“I don’t know anything about Quincey anymore,” Tora spat as he watched Smithy, his aim wavering as his adrenaline surged. “I just know I want him fuckin’ dead. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“You know,” Smithy sighed, his posture slack and spent, “there was a time when I thought you were a good kid, Tora. The others couldn’t see it because that’s not what they were looking for. But I thought maybe you could be different, maybe you could change this organization.” Tora gawked at Smithy, Goliath’s head spinning back and forth between the two of them.

“But I was wrong,” Smithy went on. “I’ve never seen the sort of violence that I see in you. It’s animal…it’s feral. It’s not human, son.”

“ _I’m not your son_ ,” Tora said through his teeth, his surprise replaced by a blinding rage.

“You’re not anyone’s son,” Smithy countered. “Sometimes I wonder if you were born, or if you just rose from the abyss.”

“Fuck you, Smithy,” Goliath spat. Smithy turned to him in a mild daze.

“Don’t get me started on you, Goliath,” he said with tired disdain. “Things were better when we thought you were dead.” Goliath hissed and leveled his gun, Smithy unimpressed. “Are you going to shoot me? Do you think that’s the best idea?”

“Just tell us where the fuck Quincey is,” Tora growled. Smithy appraised him.

“I know Mr. Balthuman isn’t perfect,” Smithy started, ignoring Tora’s ferocious gaze. “Either one of them, actually. But there’s a method to their madness; a control to the chaos. With you, it’s just violence without reason, and I’m afraid I can’t be part of that.”

“Without reason?!” Tora roared. “Quincey tried to kill me! One of his thugs tortured and raped Poppy!” Smithy’s face paled.

“You’re lying…” he said softly.

“It’s the fuckin’ truth,” Goliath added, his face serious. Smithy’s eyes darted between the two men’s solemn expressions, his mouth twisting in thought.

“I don’t know who Quincey is now,” Tora said, “but it’s not who he used to be. He’s a monster and a spoiled fuckin’ brat, and he needs to pay for what he did.”

Smithy let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders rising and falling. He watched Tora and Goliath for a moment before nodding to himself.

“Be that as it may,” he began, “I’m afraid I can’t let you kill him. But I will give you a head start.” Tora’s raised arm shook as he processed Smithy’s words. “I suggest you go. _Now_.” Smithy pulled his phone from his pocket and held it aloft, his thumb positioned over the SOS button. He moved away from the door, clearing a path for Tora and Goliath.

“Smithy, don’t do this,” Tora begged. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“And you won’t,” Smithy answered confidently. “Because you and I both know that you’ve got a better chance of making it out of here alive with my head start. Fire that gun and the guards will have you down in 30 seconds.” Tora scowled and lunged towards Smithy, who recoiled only slightly before holding his phone higher. “I mean it, Tora!”

“Let’s just fuckin’ go,” Goliath said. Tora wanted to tear Smithy to shreds with his teeth, to rend his flesh and find Quincey on his own, but he knew the old man was right. He lowered his gun with one last grunt of frustration and Goliath did the same, both slipping by Smithy with murderous glares. Smithy took several cautious steps back as he watched them bound down the hall, their feet pounding a heavy tattoo on the floor.

“Goodbye, Tora,” Smithy whispered as his thumb descended.

Tora and Goliath had barely made it around a corner when the lamps around them began to flicker to life, the air filling with the maddening shriek of an alarm. They raced faster, Tora’s heart in his stomach, swaying with every movement, with every frantic turn. He could hear men shouting from behind him, their footsteps hammering. He wondered numbly if they were men he knew, men he had fought beside. The first bullet whirred past his head and a jeweled wall sconce shattered into glassy flecks, embedding themselves in Tora’s arms and cheeks. A gun popped nearer to him and he realized that Goliath was firing back, clumsily spinning as he shot. Tora shouted something incomprehensible to him, telling him to pick up the pace.

The thick double doors to the courtyard emerged up ahead and Tora pumped his legs harder, Goliath struggling to keep up. _Almost there_ , he told himself. _Almost there_. The guards were yelling and Tora could hear his own name mingling with the rapid snapping of the gunshots, the whole moment coiling downward into a riotous symphony. _Almost there. Almost there_. He burst out into the courtyard with a frenzied breath, the cold air seizing his lungs. He dragged Goliath out by the shirt before slamming the doors shut again, grabbing a nearby Nodate umbrella and ramming the pole through the handles to hold them closed. The makeshift lock immediately began to bulge as the guards shoved from the other side, the occasional bullet splintering the wood.

Tora cupped his hand on his knee to help Goliath onto the veranda. Goliath stumbled once and then twice, breathing heavily, Tora screaming every known obscenity before finally hoisting him up. Goliath clambered over the edge and spun to offer Tora his hand, but Tora batted it away in anger, easily reaching the lip with his fingertips and heaving himself up. Once on the veranda, they did the same thing again to reach the roof, Goliath tumbling over the edge with a pained gasp. Tora jumped and clutched the lip just as the doors behind him burst open like the brutal mouth of a beast. Bullets whizzed past him but each one missed. _Almost there. Almost there._ His arms strained as he lifted his body, his muscles clenching, and that’s when he felt the sharp, hot bite of metal against his side, bright and burning. He roared as he made it onto the roof, his breaths shallow, his shirt already growing wet. He tripped as he tried to stand, feeling someone pull him up and propel him forward.

The world blurred, the night a shaky concoction of blood and stars. Tora barely recalled the lessening of the ruckus as he moved away from it, nor how he was able to make it back down the fire escape. His skin was clammy and his mouth was dry, someone speaking to him from a long distance, telling him to keep going. A ringing started in his ears and persisted during his dizzying trek through the streets, the light from each passing lamp sizzling his brain. There was an entrance up ahead, one he vaguely knew, and then more arms around him, lifting his legs. And a face above him, a pretty face, a frightened face, one dotted with tears. And then darkness, complete and unending.


	33. Thirty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bloodshed

**_I will show you the ways that I love you_ **

**_I saved you so you'd save the world_ **

_Janelle Monáe, "57821"_

Thirty-Three

“What happened?!” Poppy screamed, her world tilting. “You were supposed to protect him!” Goliath shot her a venomous glare, his skin slick with sweat, as he and a guard lowered Tora to the living room floor.

“Call Doc,” Goliath said to one of the men. “And get some fuckin’ towels. We gotta put pressure on this thing.”

“We don’t have time to call someone!” Poppy shrieked, sinking to Tora’s side, her hands hovering over his darkened shirt. “You have to do something now!” Tora was a stark, lifeless white, his lips parted, his eyes closed. Poppy thought she might vomit; she shook with anger and fear and a wild pain that clenched her heart and refused to let go.

“I _am_ doin’ somethin’!” Goliath yelled back. He pushed Poppy out of the way and lifted Tora’s shirt, the spot underneath a brilliant crimson. The bullet was lodged in his torso, the flesh around it almost black. Poppy looked away from the sight of the glistening decay, her stomach churning. She focused on Tora’s face, running her hands along his forehead and hair.

“It’s OK,” she whispered. “I’m right here. I’m right here.”

Goliath’s fingers fumbled, lost in the deluge of gushing blood. The white carpet grew a sickly pink, the air heavy with a metallic funk. _Don’t die_ , Poppy’s inner voice pleaded. _Don’t you fucking die!_ Tora looked to her like a shriveled god, holy and spent, his life rapidly seeping out of him. _Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die_. Goliath pulled a knife from his back pocket and opened it with a loud click, thrusting the point into Tora’s wound.

“What are you doing?!” Poppy cried.

“Would you calm the fuck down?” Goliath shouted as he worked. “I’m tryin’ to get the fuckin’ bullet out!” Poppy scowled and tried desperately to control her nerves, not for Goliath but for Tora.

“Doc is five minutes out,” a guard said to Goliath as he dropped a pile of pristine towels on the floor. Poppy grabbed one instinctively and wadded it into a ball, lifting Tora’s head to place it underneath. She seized another and held it aloft, watching intently as Goliath clumsily dug the knifepoint into Tora’s skin, again and again.

“Give me the knife,” Poppy said calmly. Goliath balked, turning to tell her off. “Give me the fucking knife!” she roared. Goliath hesitated before trading his knife for the towel, his posture slumping with exhaustion. 

The room spun as Poppy examined the festering hole on Tora’s side. It was slippery and pitch black, the bullet protruding like a silvery beetle. She closed her eyes and bit her quivering lip, her mind bounding back towards that night at the restaurant, back towards Tora’s wild screaming as he had strained against his handcuffs, as if his will alone could protect her. Her eyes snapped back open and she placed the blade against the bullet with an eerie precision, her hand no longer her own. She pressed the tip inside of him, her body knowing where to go even when her mind didn’t, and turned the knife, the bullet wiggling. She made one final confident flick of her wrist and the bullet popped free, hitting the ground with a muted thud. The night came rushing back to her and she gulped the freezing air, her heart tugging in her chest.

Large hands seized Poppy’s shoulders and drew her away from Tora’s body. A small man crouched in the spot where she had been, rummaging through his bag, pulling out bandages and shiny implements. Poppy realized distantly that it was the same man who had sewn up her arm, and she didn’t know if she felt comforted or frightened by that. Did her arm still hurt? Had it ever hurt at all? She couldn’t remember any pain before the pain she felt at that moment, the kind that consumed her insides like a forest fire. She crawled to Tora’s head and cradled it in her lap, refusing to look away as the doctor poked and prodded. She would never let Tora out of her sight again.

The doctor remained maddeningly expressionless as he probed the wound with his bare fingers, each movement spilling more blood. He gave one satisfied nod before going to work with a thin thread and hooked needle, each puncture in Tora’s skin making Poppy wince. He finished the gruesome line work with a knot and a snip, the crude cross stitch reminding Poppy of a demented doll. The bleeding slowed but didn’t stop, the man turning to Goliath with a sigh.

“Help me sit him up,” he said. Goliath silently obeyed, Poppy reluctantly standing out of the way, her eyes widening as she surveyed the sickening amount of gore in the room.

“The bullet,” she whispered. “It hit something major, didn’t it?” The doctor looked at her with pursed lips before returning to Tora, cutting his shirt from his limp body. Poppy was too dazed to persist in her questioning. She felt dizzy and breathless as she reached for a chair to steady herself. _Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t you fucking die._ She didn’t know if she was crying or sweating.

Goliath and a guard held Tora in a sitting position as the doctor paced around him with a wide band of gauze, wrapping tighter and tighter with every turn, his heels digging into the carpet with the effort. He went around several times before cutting the end and tucking it firmly against Tora’s torso, watching the spot patiently. After a small eternity of waiting, the doctor seemed satisfied that the bandage remained the same shade of stark white. He pressed his hand to Tora’s forehead and checked his weak pulse before mumbling a set of instructions to Goliath. Before Poppy could object, several men hoisted Tora by his arms and legs and carried him to the bedroom. She stumbled after them, her feet squishing through the carnage.

“What’s happening?” Poppy asked as she trailed behind Goliath, who was still deep in conversation with the doctor. “Please, Goliath. Tell me something. Tell me anything.” Goliath stopped in the middle of the hall, his back and shoulders tense. She was afraid that he was going to snap at her; that he was going to yell at her and blame her for everything. But when he spun around, his face was soft, his eyes wet and glowing.

“He lost a lot of blood,” he said. “Doc says we’re not out of the woods yet.” Poppy swallowed. She couldn’t feel her body anymore.

“How close are we to being out?” she asked softly, her voice faltering.

“Far,” Goliath answered. “Fuckin’ far.”

* * *

One small perk of being connected to high ranking members of any gang were the luxuries that became commonplace. Poppy didn’t know anything about Goliath’s clan and she frankly didn’t care; up until a month ago, she hadn’t known anything about any gang. But she had been plunged, quickly and violently, into the depths of the Balthuman Organization, with Quincey and Tora at its heart. She didn’t want to be a part of any of it – not the money nor the bloodshed nor the power. But she had to admit that there was some great comfort in being able to care for Tora within the confines of the safe house, away from the cold sterility of a hospital.

Tora had fallen into a coma, and so he lay corpselike in the bed that had been Poppy’s. The doctor hung clear bags from tall poles and rolled in expensive-looking machines that buzzed and beeped. Poppy didn’t know what any of it was; she only knew that it was keeping Tora alive. New men appeared every day, thinner and more somber than the guards, monitoring vitals, checking fluids, and changing endless bloodstained bandages, the cherry red spot in the center growing smaller each time. Poppy was quick to move out of the way whenever the men entered the room, but she never strayed more than a few feet from Tora’s side. As soon as they left, she took up her place again, either perched in a chair or on the edge of the bed, clutching Tora’s hand. At night she crawled up to the pillows beside him, careful not to disturb the many tubes attached to his body, and tried to sleep. She could never do more than doze, waking up in shivers and sobs, clinging to him for his familiar warmth.

A week passed, and then two. They both began to lose weight, Tora’s prominent cheekbones becoming even more pronounced. Poppy worked carefully around the new angles when she shaved him each morning, knowing Tora would be horrified to wake to a full beard. Her own body became frail, as if she were ten times her age, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat much, both out of disinterest and a persistent low-level nausea that reminded her of being sea sick. It felt as if she was constantly rocking back and forth, even with her feet planted firmly on the ground. She wanted to close her eyes and float away to wherever Tora was. Maybe he was back in her bedroom, after that first time they had made love. Maybe she could find a way to get back to that place, too…

“When was the last time you had somethin’ to eat?” It was another endless day, the pewter sky outside giving nothing away. Poppy had been lost in her fantasy world, brushing her fingers through Tora’s hair. She turned to Goliath with bleary eyes.

“What?” she asked hoarsely. She couldn’t remember the last time she had talked to someone other than Tora.

“I asked you when was the last time you had somethin’ to eat,” Goliath repeated as he leaned against the doorway. “And that doesn’t include crackers.” Poppy looked shamefully at the empty box on the nightstand.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I haven’t been very hungry.” Goliath sighed.

“Look, I know we’re not crazy about each other,” he started, “but Tora will murder me if I let you die of starvation.”

“That’s not true,” Poppy said softly as her eyes traced Tora’s face.

“Yes it is,” Goliath argued. “This big asshole seems to have taken a likin' to ya, and if…”

“No,” Poppy interrupted, “I mean it’s not true that we’re not crazy about each other.” She turned to Goliath with the smallest grin. “I heard you tell Tora that you liked me.” Goliath returned the smirk.

“You’re alright,” he conceded, “even if you get in the fuckin’ way sometimes. But you can’t just stay in here all the time.” Poppy’s expression soured.

“Yes I can,” she answered. “I can and I will. I’ll stay in here as long as it takes.” Goliath shook his head.

“So you’re gonna stare him better? Is that the plan?” he asked.

“Well what am I supposed to do?!” she snapped. “I don’t know anything about medicine or science or gunshot wounds! All I know is that I love him, and that maybe if he knows I’m near, he’ll try to get back to me!” Her tears felt hot on her fragile skin.

“I’m sorry,” Goliath said quietly. “I didn’t mean to upset ya. But Tora wouldn’t like you sittin’ here, not takin’ care of yourself. I mean, when was the last time you took a shower? And honestly, when was the last time you ate a real meal?” Poppy racked her brain before answering. She touched her greasy scalp and ran her tongue along her fuzzy teeth.

“I guess I could use a bath,” she confessed. “But only if you promise to sit with him while I’m gone.” Her stomach growled loudly, as if her admittance of one need had triggered another. Goliath arched an amused brow.

“Why don’t you let one of the guys make you a steak first?” he offered. Poppy nodded vigorously and Goliath turned to go.

“Goliath, wait,” she said. He looked at her, his face expectant. “I need you to get one more thing for me.”


	34. Thirty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Sexual assault

**_So, bless my heart and bless my mind,_ **

**_I got so much to do, I ain't got much time._ **

**_So must be someone up above, sayin'_ **

**_Come on, girl! Yeah, you gotta get back up!_ **

**_You gotta hold on..._ **

**_Yeah, you gotta hold on..._ **

_Alabama Shakes, "Hold On"_

Thirty-Four

There was the girl who Poppy used to be: naïve but smart, kind but resilient. She loved unicorns and writing, and would fill endless notebooks with lists and ideas. She believed in life’s steady trajectory, provided she planned for it. She found a job she liked, even if it filled her with a persistent self-doubt, and felt lucky to have good friends. She was a country girl with an apartment in the big city, forging her own path, despite all of her wild apprehension and fear. She was sweet and brave, and there was power in her softness.

Poppy didn’t know who she was now. Did any of those old parts of her still exist? And if so, could she ever find them again? She couldn’t rectify who she was before she met Tora with who she had become, sitting by his bedside, holding his big hand. Poppy had seen men die; had watched their heads burst like fireworks mere feet from where she stood. In her childhood, the only thing she ever watched perish was a hog on her grandmother’s farm. She thought then that maybe death was death, and that a human was as much of an animal as a pig.

She was wrong.

Poppy perpetually ruminated over her past decisions, trying to decipher where she had gone wrong. Maybe then she wouldn’t have been beaten and raped; maybe then she would have still been Poppy from the countryside. Had it been the move to Narin City that ruined everything? Or was it deciding to surprise Julri? What about kissing Tora? Each time she reached the patch of land in her mind reserved for her and Tora, she mentally stepped over it. It was a sacred site, one that she would not defile with doubt. To do so would be to admit that all of this had been for nothing, and she wouldn’t let either of their lives be for nothing. Especially now that she knew they would always be linked, the tiger and the flower intertwined.

The constant inner vigilance became suffocating over the weeks, and Poppy was no closer to understanding what version of herself she was. The bedroom itself, for all of its luxury and proximity to Tora, was equally cloying. Poppy recruited Goliath into staying by Tora’s side while she took showers and ate, but she also found wonderful comfort in stepping outside into the house’s enclosed garden, if only for a few minutes. The cold air shocked her system awake, the wind like icy kisses on her cheeks. She missed the tenderness of Tora’s touch; she longed for him with every nerve in her body. Strangely enough, Goliath, who had become her steady companion, was more perceptive to her own needs than even she was.

“You need some fresh air,” he said one night, watching Poppy over the bed.

“What if he wakes up while I’m gone?” she asked for the millionth time, her gaze lingering over Tora’s face. She yearned to see his eyes again, to melt into the honey warmth of them.

“I’ll alert the fuckin’ presses,” Goliath joked. He was trying to keep the mood light for both of them. Poppy gave him a pained expression before rising.

“Fresh air does sound nice.”

The evening sky was a blanket of snowy white, the wind carrying the mingling scents of warm street food from several blocks away. The small garden was surrounded by 12-foot-tall stone walls, grey and foreboding around the withering green patch. There would be lovely bushes and vibrant flowers in the summertime, but for now, everything was shriveled and dour, hibernating far away from the cold. Poppy wondered if maybe she was doing the same. A narrow brick path lead in a perfect circle around a raised bed and she followed it, enjoying the satisfying crunch of ice crystals beneath her feet. The chill was intense, her fingers growing numb, and she readied herself to go inside when a sound stopped her. It was the shuffling of feet, quiet and out of place. She stilled, listening, and the shuffle came again, skidding across the ice in the alley right outside the garden walls. Another pair of feet followed, these larger and heavier, catching up to the other set. 

“Stop runnin’, you stupid bitch!” a man shouted. Poppy turned to stone. Her heart stopped and then started again, racing faster and faster until she thought it would jump out of her throat.

“Let go of me!” a woman screamed. “Let go of me, you asshole!” Poppy heard the struggle and the flesh against flesh. The man slapped the woman and the sound echoed through Poppy’s memory. She was back in the restaurant, feeling imaginary men on top of her, holding her down. She lowered herself to the ground, hyperventilating.

“Just hold still, cunt!” the man roared. “This’ll be a lot fuckin’ easier if you hold still!” Poppy saw Goro and Jiro above her, around her, inside of her. She wanted to shriek at them to get off of her, that they couldn’t take what wasn’t theirs, but she was voiceless.

“Help me!” the woman cried. “Please, for the love of God, SOMEONE HELP ME!” If only Tora had gotten to Poppy sooner.

If only someone had gotten to her sooner.

Poppy rose slowly, her breath shuddering. There was no steeling of her will; no resolution that made her superhuman. She was terrified as she ran through the house, calling Goliath’s name, the guards trying to seize her as she burst out the side door into the alley, heading frantically in the direction of the garden. She was not suddenly any stronger or smarter or faster than she had been before she made up her mind to help this woman. But she was human, and she was brave, and she was determined to keep this stranger from going through the same thing that she had gone through.

The alley was dark but the pale sky served as an eerie nightlight. Poppy spotted the large man, all in black, spread on top of the writhing woman, and she realized that it was one of Goliath’s guards. She pumped her legs as the woman continued to scream, kicking her legs and desperately flinging her arms at the man’s face, her nails digging into his cheek. The man howled and slapped the woman again, blood bursting from her nose.

“Get off of her!” Poppy yelled as she threw herself onto the man’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck. He shouted in bewilderment as he stood, trying to shake off the intrusion.

Poppy squeezed as hard as she could, but she was too weak to make an impression. The man grunted like a wild beast as he backed himself into the nearest wall, wedging Poppy between the stone and his solid body. She yelped and fell, just barely ducking before he swung towards her with a punch. The other woman had regained her footing and was searching for something in the alley, her eyes landing on a stray pipe. She ran towards the man with a ferocious battle cry, but he dodged her easily, grabbing the pipe from her hands and brandishing it towards Poppy, who realized that she had been backed into a corner. The man loomed closer to her, his mouth nearly foaming, the pipe held high, when a bottle came crashing down on his head, shattering like stars. He turned, his scalp bloody, and Poppy seized the moment to plant her foot directly between his legs. He dropped the pipe with a clatter and crumpled to the pavement, clutching his manhood. Poppy and the woman stood silent, both heaving, as Goliath approached with his men.

“What the fuck happened?!” he shouted before looking at the man on the ground. “Lev?!”

“He was trying to rape her!” Poppy screamed between breaths. She studied the other woman, who was tall and slender, her hair long and dark. Her face was heavily painted and her clothes were too sparse for the weather.

“How do you know that?” Goliath asked. He looked at Lev and then at the woman, his gaze lingering on her face. She met his eyes and they both looked away quickly, suddenly bashful. “Mac, get her a towel and some fuckin’ ice, would ya?” A short guard started strolling back down the alley until Goliath reared towards him with a scowl. “Right fuckin’ now, Mac!” Goliath bellowed, and the guard broke into a run.

“I heard them from the garden,” Poppy said, her breathing returning to normal. “She was telling him to stop and he slapped her.”

“The bitch is lyin’!” Lev whimpered.

“Shutup!” Goliath spat at him before turning towards the woman, his tone softening. “That true?” The woman nodded.

“You gonna believe that Balthuman bitch and some whore?!” Lev asked. Goliath clenched his jaw and leveled a kick at Lev’s stomach, the air leaving him in a mighty huff. Goliath kneeled close to the prone form, his eyes feral.

“I never fuckin’ liked you, Lev,” he said. “And if you ever, _ever_ come near this place or my organization again, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born. Got it?” Goliath walked away before hearing the answer.

* * *

The woman perched awkwardly on the living room’s leather sofa, an ice pack held to her bruised nose. She looked frail under the stark lights, her eyes bloodshot and cautious, only occasionally straying from the floor. Poppy wondered who the woman was under the makeup and the clothes; she wondered who she had been as a little girl, and what circumstances had brought her to this profession, to this city, to this moment in time.

“What’s your name?” Goliath asked as he leaned forward in his chair.

“Destiny,” the woman answered. Goliath sighed.

“What’s your _real_ name?” The woman glanced at Goliath before turning towards Poppy, who nodded with a small smile. Outside the windows, a soft, silent snow brushed the dirty pavement clean.

“Rose,” the woman said quietly.

“Rose,” Goliath repeated. “I’m sorry about that bastard, Lev. We’ve had… _complaints_ about him before, but nothin’ like this. What were you doin’ out in the cold with him, anyway?” Rose’s posture changed and her face shifted into a frigid mask.

“What do you _think_ I was doin’?” she spat. “He bought me for the night. Doesn’t that mean you guys get to do whatever the fuck you want?” She practically snarled at Goliath and the guards surrounding him, her jaw tight. Goliath frowned, his expression a war of anger and hurt.

“Get lost,” he said to his men. “You’re makin’ her uncomfortable.” They grumbled as they shuffled back to their posts.

“Rose,” Poppy started, placing her hand on the other woman’s arm. Rose pulled away. “Rose, it doesn’t matter that Lev… _paid_ for you. You said no and he didn’t stop. This isn’t your fault.” She remembered Tora saying the same thing to her, his voice a song in her brain, and felt the magnetic drag of his body from the other room.

“Please,” Rose snorted. “You might be from one of those high-end escort services where there are ‘rules,’ but that’s not how things work with men like this.” Poppy’s cheeks darkened to a ripe shade of plum.

“Wait,” Goliath broke in. “You think Pops…is a…a… _prostitute_?!” He could barely get the word out before erupting into uproarious laughter, his chest bobbing, his face red, until he was gasping for breath. Poppy glared at him as he wiped tears from his eyes.

“Oh that is just too good,” he said with a final chuckle, both women gawking.

“And what’s so funny about bein’ a hooker?” Rose asked, dropping the ice pack. Poppy saw determination in her thin frame. “I can tell you’ve seen a few of us in your day, big boy. We can’t all be heartless thugs with guns.” Goliath had enough sense and shame to blush.

“No, it’s not that,” he began in a panic. “It’s just that Pops here is a nerd, like the nerdiest nerd that ever nerded, like the Mayor of Nerd Town…”

“I think she gets it,” Poppy interrupted.

“I didn’t even get to the part about the stuffed animal yet,” Goliath pouted.

“His name is Totoro,” Poppy proudly announced. “And he is doing an excellent job of keeping Tora company.” Goliath shook his head.

“My point is,” he went on to Rose, “it’s just hilarious to think of her doin’… _that_ for a livin’.” He finished with a smile, as if the explanation would appease either woman.

“You’re lucky Tora isn’t awake to hear any of this,” Poppy warned Goliath. Rose’s eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, her brow furrowed.

“Whatever,” she finally said as she stood. “I gotta get goin’.”

“Goin’?” Goliath asked as he shot to his feet. “It’s way too fuckin’ late to be in the streets by yourself, plus it’s fuckin’ snowin’. Your legs are gonna turn fuckin’ blue before you make it down the street.”

“Are you always this charmin’ when you ask a girl to spend the night?” Rose teased with a coy grin. Goliath opened his mouth and then closed it again. Poppy had never seen him rendered speechless.

“Please, Rose,” she cut in, bracing herself for what she wanted to say next. “I may not know much about your life, but I know what it’s like to be hurt by a man who thinks he owns you.” Rose’s face softened as she listened to Poppy. “There’s a bed down the hall that’s really comfy and warm, and a _huge_ bathtub. And you can borrow some of my clothes, although they’ll probably be a little big on you.” She waited expectantly for Rose’s response, her hands tucked under her chin.

“Alright,” Rose conceded. “But only because I’m too exhausted to go home. Plus I haven’t had a bath in fuckin’ years.” Poppy gave a single clap before turning towards the room she shared with Tora.

“Let me get you something to wear!” she called. Rose and Goliath swayed awkwardly in the living room, their eyes occasionally meeting.

“So,” Goliath started. “You like steak?”


	35. Thirty-Five

**_You're fireproof_ **

**_Nothin' breaks your heart_ **

**_You're fireproof_ **

**_It's just the way you are_ **

_The National, "Fireproof"_

Thirty-Five

Rose fell asleep in one of the guestrooms before Poppy could bring her fresh clothes. Poppy checked on her from the doorway, Rose’s face squished against the pillow as she gently snored. _I wonder if she’s ever slept in such a nice place_ , Poppy thought to herself. She didn’t like to assume things – Tora had taught her the dangers of that. But Rose seemed just barely hardened, as if her shallow façade hid an infinitely grateful young woman who wanted nothing more than a sturdy roof over her head. 

In the earliest hours of the next day, Poppy shuffled around the house, exhausted from another mostly sleepless night. As she passed the bathroom, she heard the cranking of knobs, stopping to press her ear to the door. The tub filled with the satisfying crash and plunk of water and Poppy smiled, glad that Rose had taken her up on her offer of a bath. She retreated to her closet and returned a minute later with a sweatshirt and pants, setting them just outside on the floor.

Poppy stilled when she returned to the room she shared with Tora, her eyes growing misty at the sight of him. The sun was just beginning to rise, peeking through the curtains and illuminating Tora’s unmoving silhouette like a radiant tomb. She sobbed quietly as she took his hand and held it to her wet cheek, willing him awake. The doctors still made their rounds every day, changing bandages, checking fluids, and leaving Poppy with the same paltry answers. They didn’t know when he would wake up, _if_ he would wake up at all. Poppy squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, frustrated and tired. _I can’t do this_ , she told herself. _I can’t do any of this. Tora, Quincey, Goliath, and now Rose…_ She would never regret helping Rose, but Poppy didn’t think she had any fight left in her after last night, and fight was what Tora needed the most.

“What happened to him?” Poppy jumped from the bed, clutching her chest. Rose stood hesitantly in the hallway, swimming in Poppy’s clothes.

“I’m sorry,” Rose said, shuffling her feet. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s OK,” Poppy answered as she sat back down in a chair, still clinging to Tora’s hand. “I’ve just been a little jumpy lately.” Rose nodded as she tip-toed into the room. Her face was scrubbed clean and Poppy could see her delicate, doll-like features for the first time.

“This your old man?” Rose asked. Poppy turned to her, puzzled.

“My _what_?”

“Your old man,” Rose said again, gesturing unhelpfully. “Ya know, your meal ticket, your old ball and chain, your…”

“Boyfriend?” Poppy supplied, her brow raised.

“Sure,” Rose agreed with a wry smile. “Your boyfriend.”

“Yes,” Poppy whispered, her gaze unwavering as it traveled over Tora’s face. “He…he got shot. In the side. He was trying to protect me. Well, he wasn’t trying to protect me in that very moment, but he was trying to make sure that someone who had hurt me didn’t hurt me again. And so he went on a mission that he wasn’t prepared for, and it’s really all my fault that he’s laying here in this stupid bed, when really he should be awake and I should be the one in the fucking coma!”

Poppy rubbed her palms against her eyes, as if that would keep the tears from flowing. Her shoulders shook as she cried, her outburst unexpected but cathartic. There was so much more that she wanted to say; so much more that she wanted to scream from the rooftops, that she wanted to carve into Quincey’s skin like a haunting tattoo. There was nowhere to go – not forward nor back, not even out into the nothingness. She could only sit in this purgatory and wait, her body blooming even as her soul faltered and fell.

“I had a boyfriend once who got shot,” Rose said softly after a few minutes. Poppy lifted her head. “I mean, that kind of comes with the territory.”

“Did he survive?” Poppy couldn’t stop herself from asking. She had to know. Rose studied her, her dark eyes growing sad.

“No, sweetheart, he didn’t survive,” Rose answered. “But I did.”

* * *

Rose felt intensely out of place in the grand safe house. She had tried to comfort Poppy as best she could, but she had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. She had never been taught how to act around other girls; she was trained to view them as competition. But Rose could see that Poppy wasn’t trying to compete with anyone: she was just a scared woman trying to save her man, and that was certainly something Rose _could_ relate to.

Goliath rolled out of one of the bedrooms around noon, stopping in his tracks when he saw Rose sprawled on the sofa, one long leg draped over the back. She was eating crackers from a box, one by one, and watching a boisterous talk show.

“You’re still here,” he said in surprise.

“Disappointed?” she asked coyly, her eyes still on the TV.

“More like shocked,” Goliath answered as he sat in a nearby chair. He snatched the box of crackers and Rose turned to yell at him, her expression faltering as she stifled a laugh instead.

“Your hair!” she giggled. “You look like a sea urchin.” Goliath’s cheeks glowed as he smoothed down the wild peaks.

“Not all of us have time to go to the fuckin’ beauty parlor,” Goliath grumbled, too proud to admit that he was embarrassed by the way his blue hair had grown out and faded.

“Yeah,” Rose agreed as she sat up, tossing her own shiny locks over her shoulder. “I guess it’s kinda hard when you’re supposed to be dead.” Goliath froze.

“What did you just say?” he asked quietly, carefully watching Rose from beneath his lashes. She remained unfazed.

“I know who you are,” she answered, her smile fading when Goliath didn’t move. “And I don’t give a fuck. I may sell my body to men, but no one’s the boss of me.”

“Not even a pimp?” Goliath wondered. Rose arched a brow.

“I’m an independent contractor,” she said proudly. “No master, no chains. So I’m not gonna go blabbing your secret out of some petty gang allegiance.” Goliath continued to appraise her, his hands balling into fists.

“What about for some petty fuckin’ cash?” Rose pursed her lips before leaning in dangerously close, her nose nearly touching Goliath’s. 

“Sweetheart,” she whispered. “If I wanted cash, I would have snuck into your room and killed you last night. That duffle bag full of money is pretty noticeable from the hall.”

They stayed suspended like that, inches apart, desperately seeking the truth in the other’s intent. Goliath was the first to move, though he pulled away hesitantly, his gaze full of both longing and caution. Rose’s own confidence wavered and she bit her lip, suddenly small and shy again. She felt something soft growing in her chest, and when she looked at Goliath, she thought she saw that same softness in him. It was gone in a flash, turned hardened and tight, her own mask returning with it.

“Your hair really does look like shit,” she teased. Goliath scowled. “Do you want me to fix it for ya?”

“Would you?” Goliath asked slowly, momentarily perking up. “I mean, do you know how?”

“It’s pretty easy,” Rose said as she stood to examine his scalp, careful not to touch him. “I just need some bleach, some toner, and some dye.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah that’s it,” Rose answered with a laugh. “It’s not rocket science. Have ya never done this before?”

“Well, I mean,” Goliath stumbled over his words, increasingly annoyed at how often Rose caught him off guard. “I used to go to a…place.”

“You mean a salon?”

“Yes, a fuckin’ salon,” Goliath spat. “And I’d like that to stay between us, too.” Rose huffed out a laugh.

“Just get me the stuff and I’ll make ya halfway presentable again,” she joked. “You won’t even have to tip me.”

* * *

Rose’s words embedded themselves in Poppy’s brain, seeping down into her bloodstream, muscle, and bone. _He didn’t survive, but I did._ There was no survival without Tora. Not in this world or the next. Even if she went back to her apartment, back to her job, back to her friends, there wasn’t any version of Poppy that still fit that life. The only real thing, the only persistent truth in all of this, was that Quincey wanted to hurt Poppy and Tora, and he had manifested that desire into reality. No beginning, no end; just a perpetual line of hurt.

The day stretched into a glacial evening, Poppy a prisoner of that same room. She could hear the quiet murmuring of Goliath and Rose down the hall, but she couldn’t drag her body towards the comforting sound, not while Tora lay cold and forgotten. The night was frigid but clear, the stars surprisingly visible over the city. The moon was brilliant and full, bathing the bedroom in a ghostly light. Poppy performed her normal routine around Tora’s bed, fixing his hair, rubbing his arms and legs to help with the circulation. She couldn’t count the number of times she stopped to brush her fingers against his cheek. When the aches of sleeplessness caught up to her, she pulled a chair to the side of the bed and did the only thing she could do: she talked.

“Erdene’s still texting me like crazy,” she said with a sigh. “I wish she wasn’t so smart. Then maybe I could have gotten away with just having the ‘flu’ for so long. Or maybe Mono? Can adults get Mono?” She waited as if she expected Tora to answer. “Yeah, she never would have bought it. I’m just glad she’s supportive enough to believe me when I say I need to ‘work some things out’ and that I’m ‘OK’. I think she would have recruited the cops weeks ago had I not been willing to call her every other day. ‘Yep, still alive, Erdene, still safe!’ Well, kind of safe…” Poppy began to pick at her cuticles.

“I don’t know what you would think of Rose. To be honest, I’m not sure what _I_ think of Rose. I really wasn’t trying to be a superhero or anything, but she needed help, and I know what that feels like. She reminds me of Goliath, actually. She tries to act tough, but I think she’s probably just really scared on the inside. I could see it last night right after she was attacked. She just didn’t know what to say or do. It felt so familiar. I don’t know, maybe I’m more like her than I realize. And Goliath sure seems to like her. You should see him – he’s like a puppy dog!” Poppy giggled even as tears pooled in her eyes. She watched Tora’s form, afraid to touch him for fear she would find stone instead of flesh.

“I miss you,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I miss you, and I really need you to come back now, OK? OK? _Please?_ I can’t do this, I can’t do any of this on my own. I’m so scared all the time, and so worried. I can’t sleep and I can’t eat – I feel like I’m just wasting away to nothing, like I’ll be a pile of dust before you come back to me. And I really, really need you to come back to me. We have so much more to do, Tora.” Poppy stopped, hesitantly running her hand across her stomach.

“We have so much more to do,” she said again between sniffles. “Not just the two of us, not just you and me, Tora…but the three of us. There’s going to be three of us soon. I’m going to have a baby, Tora, and you’re going to be a daddy, and we’re going to be a family. I’m pregnant, Tora, and I need you to wake up, because I can’t do this alone. I need you to wake up because we can’t be a family unless you wake up! Please! _Please!_ ” Poppy threw herself on the bed, her face lost in her arms as she sobbed and repeated “I love you” over and over again. It was a pitiful sound, the sort of heaving and choking of unending sadness, of a chasm tearing wide in her heart. She craned her head to wipe her face on her sleeve and froze.

A twitch. An almost imperceptible twitch of Tora’s index finger, one that would have gone unnoticed by anyone else. But Poppy had stared at Tora’s hands for hours and days and weeks, begging every higher power to make them move, and now they had. She waited, afraid that any sudden movement would throw her from her dream. Tora’s finger moved again, followed by his whole hand, shivering in a gentle spasm. The fingers shuddered, as if shaking themselves awake, and then all began to bend in towards his palm, willingly and deliberately. Poppy sprang onto the bed and clamored up to Tora’s head, clutching his face.

“Tora!” she cried. “Tora! Tora! Please wake up! Please wake up!” Poppy could feel his body humming beneath her, the lifeless form filling with a quiet buzzing. His skin grew warmer as the fire inside of him was rekindled. His arms and legs quaked, his breathing growing more rapid.

“Tora,” Poppy begged now, stroking his temple and pressing kisses against his jaw. “Tora, please, _please_ wake up. We’re gonna be a family, Tora. Can you hear me? A family. Please, Tora. I love you. I love you so much.”

His lids danced, his dark lashes flickering. Poppy held her breath, letting it out in a great wave as his eyes finally opened, golden and real.

“Hey, kid,” he rasped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am clearly not a medical professional, so I cannot speak to the accuracy of this whole coma thing. So if I'm way off, please just roll with it...? Pretty please?


	36. Thirty-Six

**_All the dams will give at the end,_ **

**_At the end, at the end of the world._ **

**_Will you swim for me?_ **

**_And the lights could go at any time,_ **

**_Any time, any time, any time._ **

**_How will you look for me?_ **

_Rainer Maria, "Catastrophe"_

Thirty-Six

“Are you scared?”

“No.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not lying!”

“I think you’re scared…”

“I’m not!”

“…and I think you _should_ be scared.”

Vincent Balthuman hung over Tora like a cloud, his blue eyes dark, his mouth pursed in a straight line. Tora was only ten, but he was big for his age; he thought maybe he could overpower the older man if given the chance. Yet he remained captive behind an endless row of steel bars that stretched past the horizon in either direction. Vincent grew taller with every step towards the cage, a horrifying totem that inched nearer until he was directly above Tora, 30-feet tall, peering down at the boy with a grimace.

“I’m not scared!” Tora’s voice cracked as it traveled up Vincent’s beanstalk form. “I’m not scared!”

“Then you’re a fool,” Vincent said, his voice booming like thunder. The ground shook and Tora gripped the bars to steady himself. The metal turned liquid and crawled up his fingers, locking him in place so that he became one with his prison.

“Let go of me!” he cried. Vincent chuckled.

“Are you scared now?” The grey sky opened and raindrops fell in an uproarious patter, soaking Tora’s upturned face.

“Let go of me!” He shouted again. “Please! _Please!_ ”

“Please! Please!” A voice echoed Tora’s from far away, humming on a light wind. Tora stopped to listen.

“Please!” the voice begged again. “Please wake up! Please wake up!” The sound broke the clouds and the sun bloomed like a fiery flower, its light eroding Tora’s shackles. He knew the voice; knew its softness and its peace; knew it was home.

“Poppy,” he whispered as he closed his eyes. A path emerged before him, technicolor and bright, and he followed it, unencumbered by cages or chains or the angry roaring of his master. He aged as he walked, from a boy to a teenager, and when he reached a golden door, it was the hand of a man who turned the knob.

The light from the bedroom nearly blinded Tora. The earth was blurry and spinning, and when it stilled, two familiar brown orbs stared down at him. She was heavy on his chest, her hands pressed against his cheeks as she held her breath. Time had stopped, just for that moment, and Tora could watch the relief as it washed through Poppy, her shoulders relaxing, her lips curving into that brilliant pink smile.

“Hey, kid.”

“Tora!” Poppy screamed as she buried her face in his neck, peppering him with grateful kisses. “Oh Tora, I didn’t know if you would come back! I missed you! I missed you so much!” He thought she might smother him.

“Pops,” he choked, clearing his sandpaper throat before trying again. “Pops! Take it easy.” She shot up with a horrified gasp, but Tora’s arms instinctively wrapped themselves around her to keep her from going far. His limbs were leaden and stiff, aching with a tingling numbness.

“No, stay,” he implored, trying to tighten his grip. “Just slow down.” Poppy was no match for Tora’s strength, even in his weakened state.

“Sorry,” she hiccupped, hovering close to his face. “Are you here? Is this real?”

“Shouldn’t I be askin’ that?” Tora coughed and Poppy reached for a glass of water on the nightstand, tilting it to his mouth as he lifted his head, all of his tiny unused bones cracking in protest. He chugged the first glass and then asked for another, drinking until the carafe was empty.

“I can get more,” Poppy said as she tried to stand. Tora shook his head and drew her back to him.

“Stay,” he insisted. “I’m not sure if this real or not, either.”

A flash of doubt passed over Poppy’s face before she leaned over and fit her lips to Tora’s. He gently answered, slipping out his tongue to taste her. When she drew back, her eyes were drowsy but glad, her expression torn between longing and wonder. _This is real_ , Tora told himself. _This is fuckin’ real_. He ran one hand over Poppy’s back, the other reaching to trace her mouth with his thumb. The feeling was returning to his legs, and he was aware of his heart as it steadily beat in his chest. He needed nothing more than the two of them sitting together in a quiet stupor.

“Holy shit,” Tora whispered as he froze. “You’re pregnant.” Poppy wrinkled her brow and nodded, fresh tears tumbling.

“I am,” she answered, her voice barely audible. “Are you…happy?” Tora stared at her.

“Are you serious?” he breathed. “We’re gonna have a kid, Pops. I’m gonna be… _a dad_.” He said the word with marvelous fear. His face split into a slow smile and Poppy answered with her own, holding him in a tight hug. Tora didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry. He brought Poppy closer to him, his long arms easily crossing each other around her back.

“Pops,” he said, his mouth pressed to her ear. “Where’s the rest of ya?” He could practically feel her blushing.

“I guess I kind of forgot to eat,” she admitted. “Goliath tried to make food for me…”

“Goliath?” Tora interrupted. Poppy sat up.

“Yeah,” she answered. “He’s the one that got me the pregnancy tests, so I’m sure he suspected I would be needing more to eat. He didn’t count on the pregnant lady having no appetite.”

Everything returned to Tora in a dazzling rush. Goliath. Quincey. The restaurant. The safe house. And the last thing he remembered: the bullet biting through his skin, sending him careening down an endless black hole of memories and dark thoughts. Tora flexed his legs and gritted his teeth, suddenly worried of having shriveled into nothing, into a shell of the person he used to be. He couldn’t afford to be a shell, not now.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered. “Pops, how long have I been out?”

* * *

The doctor silently appraised Tora, lifting his limbs and prodding his torso. Tora sat scowling like a bear rudely shaken from his hibernation, his hair sticking out in wild geometric shapes. His mouth felt slimy and stubble sprouted on his chin, despite Poppy’s best efforts to keep it at bay. He wanted a shower, a cigarette, and a steak, and he wanted to yank every last tube from his body like a savage, howling beast. Poppy’s anxious expression was the only thing that made him behave.

“You had an infection in your blood,” the doctor murmured. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose more oxygen to your brain. And you’re lucky you’re young and strong.”

“An infection?!” Poppy cried. “Why didn’t you tell me that? I asked you a million times what was wrong!”

“I told Goliath,” the doctor answered, not looking at Poppy as he carelessly pulled needles from Tora’s arms. “We do not discuss these things with women.” Tora frowned, ready to clock the puny man.

“I’m the one who pulled the bullet from his side,” Poppy said proudly, a finger to her chest. “From now on, you tell me _everything_ about his health.” There was a confident ferocity in Poppy’s voice, one that made Tora smirk.

“Did you really do that, kid?” he asked with glittering eyes, the doctor momentarily forgotten.

“I did,” she said, matching his gaze. “And I’d do it again.” A familiar electric energy surged between them, an aching mingling of awe and pride.

“Alright,” the doctor interrupted, clearly unimpressed. “Then you need to make sure that he doesn’t hurt himself. The wound is mostly healed but I’d watch for leakage, in which case he could be at risk for another infection. Walking will be slow, so don’t rush things. No alcohol, no salt, no processed foods. No sex. And absolutely no smoking.” The doctor stood and zipped his bag, Poppy trying to commit his instructions to memory. “Good luck.” He was out the door before she could ask any questions. She turned to Tora, who looked exceedingly grumpy.

“Fuck that,” he spat as he tore the covers off, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. He planted both large feet solidly on the ground and shakily stood, taking two paltry steps before tumbling backwards into the sheets.

“Tora!” Poppy shouted as she tried to catch him. He landed firmly on his butt, Poppy’s arms wrapped unhelpfully around his waist. “You have to take things slow! Didn’t you hear the doctor?”

“That guy’s a moron,” Tora growled, every ounce of his body throbbing.

“I don’t like him, either,” Poppy said, “but he saved your life.” Tora frowned at her. She looked tired and pale, but her expression was hopeful. _She’s been doin’ nothin’ but waitin’ for me_ , Tora thought, _and I’m bein’ a fuckin’ jerk._

“Fine,” he pouted. “But the smokin’ thing was just a suggestion.”

“I don’t think it was.”

“No, see, I’ve been smokin’ for so long that my body works better _with_ cigarettes than without.” Tora’s cheeks dimpled as he smiled, Poppy’s eyes rolling deep into her head.

“You are going to be such a pain in the ass to take care of,” she said, pressing her head to his chest. “Hey Tora?”

“Hm?” His nose was lost in her hair, her scent like warm sunshine on his skin. He was truly alive, truly awake.

“You stink,” she said plainly. He coughed out a laugh. 

“Good thing I’ve got such a cute nurse to help me get clean,” he joked, reaching his hand down to squeeze the curve of a hip that was no longer there. “A cute nurse that needs to eat.” Poppy stiffened. 

“Especially because I’m eating for two,” she whispered.

“You sound scared,” Tora said, his hand trailing up and down her arm.

“How can I not be?” Poppy asked. “Everything is such a mess. How are we supposed to bring a baby into all of this?”

Tora had only been awake for a few hours but he already wanted to fall back into that deep slumber, swallowed by the blissful oblivion. Only this time he would take Poppy with him; Poppy and their child, their small sprout that would serve as proof of them having been together as one. Tora knew better than anyone that the gang world would destroy any bright glimmer of joyous youth, bending it into another vestige of ugly violence. Poppy had only been inside of the chaos for a few months and Tora had already seen the light flee from her eyes more times than he could count. He couldn’t take her and the baby back into the void with him, but he could take them somewhere far away, somewhere they could heal.

“Let’s leave,” he said. Poppy lifted her head.

“What?”

“As soon as I can walk, let’s get the fuck outta here.” Tora’s eyes blazed.

“You mean leave the safe house?” Poppy bit her lip.

“I mean leave everything,” Tora started, grasping her shoulders. “Leave this house, leave this city, leave this country. Go somewhere where no one knows who we are. I’ve got forged passports, birth certificates – everything we need.”

“But what about Quincey?” Poppy breathed, Tora flinching at the name on her tongue.

“ _Fuck Quincey_ ,” he said. “Fuck all of it. I promise I’ll make him pay for what he did to you, but not now, not like this.”

“But, but…” Poppy stammered, shaking her head. Tora didn’t know what he would do if she said no. Leaving suddenly felt like the only rational option, and he clung to it with all his desperate energy. “Quincey will come after us. You said so yourself.”

“That’s why we need to go somewhere he’ll never think of, never suspect.” Tora suddenly felt lightheaded, his stomach grumbling with hunger. “Please, Poppy. Please trust me with this.” Poppy placed her tiny hand on his cheek, brushing her thumb over his skin. Her fingers traced his throat, finding his pulse.

“I know where we can go,” she said quietly.


	37. Thirty-Seven

**_There's always a siren_ **

**_Singing you to shipwreck_ **

_Radiohead, "There, There"_

Thirty-Seven

Goliath was hesitant to make a fuss over Tora’s recovery, partly because he had a reputation to maintain, and partly because he knew that Poppy would want Tora all to herself. Goliath would never admit it, but he had felt an intense jolt of relief when Poppy came running into the living room, her eyes bright with tears, rambling about Tora being awake. And maybe part of Goliath was jealous; jealous that Tora had someone like Poppy, who would sit by his side night and day, trying to bring him back to life. Goliath didn’t know if anyone would do that for him when the time came.

“So the big guy’s up?”

Rose sauntered into the kitchen where Goliath sat and began casually rummaging through the fridge. She had been playful and intense the night before, chatting easily, but something had shifted in her demeanor when Poppy announced Tora’s improved condition. Rose had slipped into her room when the doctor came, only now reemerging, dressed in her revealing street clothes. Goliath gave her a quick onceover, opening his mouth to say something smart, when a tremendous crash boomed from Tora and Poppy’s room, shaking the house.

“Just one cigarette, woman!” Tora yelled.

“Not even one!” Poppy shouted back. “And stop trying to walk by yourself!” Goliath turned to Rose with a pointed look.

“Does that answer your question?” Goliath asked. Rose wrinkled her nose as she sat, drinking from a carton of orange juice. “It’s still a little cold for that outfit,” he said, waiting for her to knock him down with a snide remark.

“I guess I just feel more comfortable this way,” she said with a shrug. Her energy was low and there were dark circles under her eyes. “Besides, I need to get goin’.”

“Goin’?” Goliath choked, trying not to sound disappointed. Rose’s head shot up.

“What, did you think I was just goin’ to mooch off of you forever?” Goliath could tell that she was trying to find her spark, but her expression remained listless and dull. “Besides, I gotta get back to work.” Goliath swallowed hard, studying her chipped nail polish as she picked at the wood grain in the table.

“Not until you fix my hair,” Goliath said lightly, meeting Rose’s bashful smirk.

“Did you get the stuff?” Goliath was up and out of the room before she could finish, returning seconds later with boxes of dye, toner, and bleach. “Alright, alright. Sit down.”

Rose dragged a chair to an empty space on the tile floor and removed her jacket, rummaging through the boxes for gloves. When she turned, Goliath sat hunched in the chair, shirtless. Her eyes quickly darted over his toned stomach and chest, his skin covered in a blanket of dark tattoos. She quickly shifted away, trying to hide the red of her cheeks. Goliath grinned at her obvious nerves, watching intently as she stirred together chemicals and creams.

“How do you know how to do this stuff?” Goliath asked, his elbows on his knees.

“You read the box, dumbass,” Rose answered absently, wincing when she realized what she said. “Sorry – I guess I’m used to talkin’ to guys a certain way.”

“Yeah,” Goliath started, his voice soft. “But it’s just me.” Rose bit her lip when she looked at him, her guard wavering. She walked towards him cautiously with the bowl and brush, Goliath leaning back and spreading his legs wide to give her space. Her breath was warm on his forehead, mingling with the icy thickness of the bleach as she spread it through his hair. He kept his hands balled in tight fists.

“I wanted to be a hairdresser when I was little,” Rose said after a few silent minutes. “It always reminded me of art, like you got to paint on people instead of canvas. And I liked the idea of makin’ people feel good.” Her face fell as she worked, Goliath marveling at the gentle sweep of her dark lashes when she spoke. “At least I get to make people feel good now,” she tried to joke. 

“Why don’t you stop?” Goliath whispered.

“Stop hookin’?” she asked with a snort. “And do what? Go to college? Start a family? Sure, I’ll get right on that.” She clenched her jaw as she brushed harder, the stiff bristles biting into Goliath’s scalp.

“What about beauty school?” he asked, grateful when she stopped assaulting his head. “Isn’t that what they call it?” Rose took a step back, her tools held aloft.

“Do you have any idea how much that cost?” she balked. “I can’t even afford a roof over my head!” Goliath frowned.

“What do you mean…” he started.

“Just forget it,” she interrupted, going back to her work. “Girls like me don’t get chances like that. We just don’t.”

“What if I helped you pay for it?” Goliath asked quietly.

“No,” Rose answered quickly as she scooped more bleach from the bowl. “I’m sick of men tryin’ to buy me.”

“I’m not tryin’ to buy you,” Goliath said through his teeth, his eyes flashing dangerously as he looked up at her. “I’m tryin’ to help you.”

“It always starts out that way,” Rose spat, stroking frantically. “They say it’s to help me, that they don’t want anything in return. But you men all want the same fuckin’ thing in the end.” Goliath’s hands darted out and wrapped around Rose’s thin wrists, holding her in place.

“First of all,” he growled, “you’re gonna make me bleed if you don’t calm the fuck down. And secondly, I don’t want or need or expect anything from you.” Goliath saw an unfamiliar apprehension crawl across Rose’s face, her expression sad and soft. She looked to his lips and then down at his chest, her gaze finally resting on his fingers on her skin.

“You’ll have to leave the bleach on for a while,” she murmured.

“Rose…” he breathed.

“Let go of me, Goliath,” she whispered. “Please.”

He dropped his hands and she walked back to the counter, silent, her shoulders hunched. They barely spoke for the rest of the long process, Goliath torn between angry pouting and a deep yearning to find the right words, the words that would convince Rose that he didn’t see her as a free pass to anything but herself. There was a person under her steely exterior, a person who he wanted to know and understand in the hopes of better knowing and understanding himself. But Rose remained stiff and distant when she rinsed his hair, or dabbed water from his skin, or stood so close that Goliath could see her pulse working in her throat. In the end, his locks were turned a brilliant sapphire, and Goliath felt more like himself than he had in months.

The next morning, Rose was gone.


	38. Thirty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bloodshed

**_I'll be your mirror_ **

**_Reflect what you are, in case you don't know_ **

**_I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset_ **

**_The light on your door to show that you're home_ **

_The Velvet Underground & Nico, "I'll Be Your Mirror"_

Thirty-Eight

“I’ll make a deal with ya,” Tora said from his side of the bed. “I’ll stop beggin’ for cigarettes…if you agree to eat more.” He lay shirtless and sprawled across the mattress, one arm behind his head. The evening was drowsy and blue, the safe house eerily quiet.

“I _am_ eating!” Poppy protested. She was curled in a tight ball under the sheets, her tank top and shorts awkwardly large for her newly diminutive frame.

“Crackers don’t count, Pops,” Tora answered with a frown. “Especially when you’re eatin’ for a kid that’s half me.” They smirked at each other, grateful for any moment of levity. 

The week had been long and painful, Poppy, Tora, and especially Goliath moping around the house for their own separate reasons. The only bright spot in everything was Tora’s stubbornness and how quickly it propelled his recovery, his legs soon carrying him easily again. Still, he was far from healed, his face devoid of that warm olive glow, sweat beading like marbles on his forehead whenever he pushed himself too hard. Poppy caught his poorly hidden winces when he shifted his body, and she had scolded him more than once for already trying to rebuild the miniscule amount of muscle he had lost. But she couldn’t stay mad for long, not when Tora was finally returning to himself.

“Everything makes me sick,” Poppy murmured. “I always feel like I’m about to throw up.” Tora drew Poppy to him with his free arm and she came easily, nestling sweetly against his solid chest.

“You gotta eat, kid,” he breathed against her hair. “We gotta figure this out.” His hand slid down her back to gently squeeze her butt. “And I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t miss this.” Poppy laughed, her finger absently tracing the peonies on Tora’s skin.

“Are you just trying to fatten me up for your pleasure?” she teased as she circled his nipple. Tora felt a telltale jolt in his crotch.

There were no words for the amount of frustration Tora had endured in such a short period of time. He felt puny and useless, leaning on Poppy for both physical and emotional support. Worse than that, Tora’s vices, the things that kept him from tearing the world in two, had been stripped away: no working out, no smoking, and no sex. Not for lack of trying, of course – Tora never was very good at following rules. But he hadn’t counted on a nurse like Poppy who would scream herself hoarse before she let Tora compromise his wellbeing.

“Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish,” he warned, his hand slipping under Poppy’s shirt to caress her silken stomach, part of him anxious to see her belly swell. “And no, I’m not tryin’ to fatten you up. That’s just a bonus.” Poppy rose onto her elbows, her eyes glinting with mischief.

“The doctor said no sex,” she reminded him. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t try other things.”

“Other things?” Tora asked with an arched brow, his thumb tugging at her gaping neckline. “Are you…ready for that?” Sleeping next to Poppy, their touches loving but safe, had been an especially brutal torture. But he wouldn’t push her, wouldn’t coax her, wouldn’t beg her – she had to be the one to make the first move.

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said with a shy smile.

Poppy could barely finish her sentence before Tora cupped her face and brought her mouth to his, their tongues caught in a pulsing battle. She moaned softly, the vibration making Tora lightheaded. His whole body tingled from her warmth; from the way she licked and teased him; from the longing that radiated out of his core with wild, fiery branches. He grasped her rear again and hoisted her legs over his stomach, his breath hissing between them when she brushed against his wound. Their lips parted with a wet smack.

“Sorry!” Poppy said as she sprang up. Tora laced his fingers through her hair and pulled her back down to him.

“Fuck it,” he whispered before burying his face in the crook of her neck, lapping and kissing, leaving behind glossy trails of saliva. Tora thought he might come from Poppy’s whimpers alone, her position inching higher until his mouth was level with her chest. The tank top came down with one easy tug, her breasts smaller but still plump enough to bounce, her nipples a familiar dusty pink. Tora used his tongue to flick one nipple and then the other, Poppy pushing into him until he began to suck with a laugh. She tasted like sweat and salt and the delicious honey sweetness of herself.

“Tora,” she moaned, clutching his head. Tora hummed as he lightly tugged with his teeth.

“Tora!” Poppy said again, her tone suddenly shifting. Tora stilled at the panic in her voice and quickly released her breast, searching her face.

Poppy pressed a finger to her lips and pointed towards the hallway, Tora barely able to hear over his own heart. They both listened, poised like cats, as the floorboards outside the bedroom released a telling groan. Tora moved Poppy off of him, his eyes never leaving the door as he tiptoed towards his gun on the dresser, one hand motioning for Poppy to shield herself on the far side of the bed. She quickly fixed her top and wedged her body into the space near the window, her shoulders shaking.

Another creak rose and fell, the source moving nearer. A buzzing erupted in Tora’s ears, meeting his pulse and building into a painful symphony. He didn’t know if he was strong enough for whatever was about to happen; he didn’t know if he could protect Poppy and their child. For maybe the first time in his life, Tora couldn’t say if he was a thug or simply a man trying to save his family. But his body remembered everything, seeming to work almost independent of its master as it raised the gun and slowly cocked it.

The sounds stopped. Tora waited a minute more before releasing his breath and turning his head towards Poppy, who peeked at him over the pillows. _Maybe we’re both hearing things_ , he thought. _Maybe we’re both crazy._ He gave a small shrug and Poppy stood, the light outside the window behind her now a deep ocean blue. The sky seemed to glitter, undulating as waves, and a brilliant golden beam flared through the glass like sunlight caught on water.

“POPPY!” Tora roared a second before the pane shattered inward.

Poppy screamed and threw herself across the bed, crawling towards Tora. A dark body jutted through the fractured space and gripped her ankle, dragging her back. Poppy spun and leveled several unsuccessful kicks at the man who was twice her size, her legs too short to reach him. He dodged Tora’s bullets as he tried to pull Poppy down to the floor, but she clung tightly to the sheets. Tora cursed as he ran, his side raging with pain, shards of glass cracking beneath his weight. The man was aiming his own gun while still holding a thrashing Poppy, but Tora was too fast, his fist sending the man reeling. Poppy pulled herself free and raced to the other side of the room, her chest heaving as she watched Tora grab the man’s collar and pull him to his knees, the muzzle of Tora’s gun flush with his skin.

“Who the fuck are you?” Tora seethed, his expression more animal than human.

“You’re not supposed to be awake,” the man wheezed through his broken nose. “You’re supposed to be a fuckin’ vegetable.”

“How the fuck did you know that?” Tora quietly growled. “Who sent you?” The man laughed.

“Just kill me already,” he said. “It won’t make a difference. There’ll just be more like me, more who want you and that cunt of yours dead,” he gestured towards Poppy with his chin before spinning towards Tora. “More like me who know what it means to be fucking loyal.” Tora stared into the man’s dead brown eyes, his question answered.

BANG!

A shot popped from somewhere else in the house, Poppy shrieking as Tora’s attention darted towards the door. The man made a clumsy reach for Tora’s arm, struggling for control of the gun, as his other hand dug into the still bruised flesh around Tora’s wound. Tora grunted, his vision growing starry and white before dissolving into a nauseating static. He punched the man once more and yanked the gun free, the room filling with a loud crack as Tora fired. The man crumpled to the ground as the sound of more shots rang through the walls.

“Goliath,” Tora breathed as he rushed to Poppy’s side, her face ashen.

“ _Go_ ,” she urged. “Go help him!”

“I’m not leavin’ you here!”

Before they could argue any further, the bedroom door was blasted off its hinges, another unfamiliar thug falling on top of it. Tora shielded Poppy with his body, pointing his gun towards the empty frame. His shoulders slumped when Goliath walked in, bloody but upright, a bruise growing beneath one eye. Goliath scanned the room in a daze before finding Tora and Poppy in the corner, his own gun hanging limp in his hand.

“Balthuman,” he said. “They know we’re here.”


	39. Thirty-Nine

**_With your feet in the air and your head on the ground,_ **

**_Try this trick and spin it, yeah_ **

_Pixies, "Where Is My Mind?"_

Thirty-Nine

“We’re gettin’ the fuck outta here.”

Tora was frantic as he moved around the room, blindly emptying drawers into a large duffle bag. Poppy hovered anxiously in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her eyes darting between Tora and where Goliath stood near the door. Goliath’s guards had dragged away the two bodies, but Poppy knew there were more. She had grown to recognize the smell of death.

“Tora,” she started, her voice small. “Please just calm down.”

“Calm down?!” He reeled towards her. “Poppy, Quincey knows where we are! When these assholes don’t go back to him with our heads, he’ll just send more! We have to leave. _Now_.” His face was clammy and pale, sweat dotting his naked shoulders.

“Tora, you have to relax,” Poppy said more firmly. “This isn’t good for you.”

“Neither is gettin’ killed,” he muttered, tossing more items into the bag. He shoved Totoro on top and yanked the zipper closed. “How the fuck did they know we were here?”

“Maybe they followed us the night we broke into Balthuman’s place,” Goliath offered quietly, his expression dark. “I knew that was a bad idea.” Tora glared at him, his jaw stiff, both men still keyed up with anger and adrenaline.

“Or maybe that whore girlfriend of yours ratted us out,” Tora spat.

“Tora!” Poppy shouted in admonishment. Goliath strode across the room, stopping a few centimeters short of Tora’s face, their eyes locked, their noses almost touching.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth or I’ll shut it for you,” Goliath warned.

“Try it,” Tora breathed. “I’ll tear your fuckin’ throat out.” Goliath snarled and gave Tora a mighty shove, Tora shifting a few steps back. “That all you got, Smurf?”

“Would you two stop it?!” Poppy cried, her plea going unnoticed.

“I’m sick of your shit,” Goliath said as he shoved Tora again and again, Tora smirking until he was pushed against the wall.

“Hey, I said stop it!” Poppy reached for Goliath’s arm to pull him away, his elbow rearing up to skew her balance. She tumbled onto the bed, Tora’s bravado wavering as he watched her fall. 

“Now you’re fuckin’ dead,” he growled before tackling Goliath, their bodies crashing to the floor. The house shook as they kicked and punched, wrestling for the upper hand. Goliath was smaller but he was agile, meeting Tora’s strength with a surprising fervor. Poppy backed away from the snarling mass, squealing as the two men knocked over a lamp.

“Stop it!” Poppy yelled. “Stop it right now!” She stomped her feet and balled her fists, her exhaustion turning to irritation. She was tired and scared and annoyed most of all.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you!” Tora roared as he caught Goliath in a headlock.

“You couldn’t even kill Quincey, you fuckin’ pussy!” Goliath shouted as he twisted free, trying to land a punch. Tora rolled away and leveled a kick at Goliath’s back.

“I SAID FUCKING STOP IT!” Poppy screamed as she raised Tora’s gun and shot a single bullet into the wall, her arms shaking from the knockback. Tora and Goliath separated in an instant, both jumping to their feet.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Pops!” Tora panted.

“Sorry,” she answered as she gingerly set the gun on the dresser. “But you two are acting like children!”

“You’re gonna be one helluva mother,” Goliath said between breaths, Tora scowling in his direction.

“Shutup, Goliath,” Tora spat. “You’re lucky she stopped me from murderin’ you.”

“Bullshit!” Goliath huffed. “I fuckin’ had you!”

“Would both of you just shutup?!” Poppy shrieked. Tora’s shoulders slumped and Goliath’s soon followed. Poppy was relieved to see that they almost looked ashamed, even if they would never admit it. “I don’t think Rose did this, Tora.”

“Pops, I know you have a soft spot for her…”

“No, listen,” she interrupted. “That guy said that you were supposed to still be in a coma, right? But Rose knew that you were awake.” Tora twisted his mouth as he thought.

“Poppy’s right,” Goliath added bitterly. “And don’t call her a whore.” Tora rolled his eyes and Poppy made a mental note to scold him in private later.

“OK fine,” Tora admitted, “but that doesn’t change the fact that we need to leave.” Poppy bit her lip. In some strange way, she had come to know the safe house as home, and she was tired of constantly fleeing the places she called home. Tora seemed to sense her apprehension.

“Pops,” he started, waiting for her to look at him. “It’s OK. We’ll be there together.” Poppy nodded, her face breaking into a sad smile. She turned to Goliath.

“Will you go with us, Goliath?” Tora opened his mouth to protest but Poppy shot him a warning glare. Goliath hesitated, his mind churning, before responding. 

“I can’t, Pops,” he answered softly. “I’ve gotta…I’ve gotta find her. I’ve gotta find Rose.”

* * *

The grand warehouse was empty save the cluster of men perched around a patch of blood-stained concrete. A giant spotlight had been hauled in, its beam illuminating every dancing mote of dust. Lev sat hunched in a chair, his arms bound, his face purple and swollen. He squinted into the light, his shadow climbing high behind him.

“You said Tora wouldn’t be a problem,” Vincent Balthuman muttered as he wiped his hands clean. “You said he was practically a corpse.”

“He was!” Lev shouted, coughing up pink pools of spit. “He was a fuckin’ vegetable!” Vincent studied Lev for a long second before yanking his head back by his hair, Lev howling in pain.

“Then why the _fuck_ are all of my men dead?!” Vincent hissed.

“I don’t know!” Lev sobbed. “I don’t know!” Vincent released him with disgust, his eyes turning towards his son. Quincey stood silent outside the bright circle, his face expressionless.

“Do you see what happens when you trust the wrong people?” Vincent asked. “He’s made a mockery of our name, Quincey.”

“No, I swear I didn’t mean to!” Lev choked between his tears. “I just wanted to get back at that bastard Goliath!”

“It was always my plan to kill you once we were done with you, Lev,” Vincent said casually. “Shame on me for thinking that you would be of any use in the first place.” Lev’s body shook as Vincent drew a glinting blade from his pocket. He offered it to Quincey handle first.

“Dad,” Quincey started. “I don’t think…”

“This is your mess, Quinceton,” his father interrupted. “It’s time for you to start acting like it.” Quincey looked to the men around him for help, but they remained lifeless and unfazed. He swallowed hard and wiped his hands on his jacket.

“I can’t do this,” he said.

“You can and you _will_ ,” Vincent answered, his eyes sharp. “Don’t you dare disobey me.” The threat was tinged with a violent promise, one that solidified a truth that Quincey had refused to acknowledge: his father was beginning to see him as a man.

Quincey stepped forward, his golden head bathed in the yellow light as he slowly pulled the knife from his father’s hand. Every detail stood out in stark relief, the shadows darker, the smell of the stale air suddenly potent. The world froze as he approached Lev, whose pleas grew more desperate.

“Please don’t do this! Please don’t do this!”

Quincey thought of all the things in his life that had ever made him mad; of the bullying and the name-calling; of his dad’s endless expectations. He thought of Tora and Poppy and their bold insolence, how they dared to defy him again and again. He set his jaw even as his heart screamed, using one hand to steady Lev’s head. He pressed the sharp edge of the blade to Lev’s thick neck and drew it across in one long, beautiful arc, red spraying across his chest.

* * *

“This is it!” Poppy announced with a forced smile, one arm out in welcome. Tora dropped his bag as he gawked.

“Kid,” he breathed in disbelief, “when I said we should get away, I didn’t mean fuckin’ time travel.” Poppy frowned.

They stood in the middle of her grandmother’s forgotten country home, miles from Narin City. The house was small and rustic, with wood-paneled walls and a kitchen that opened into a quaint living room and giant hearth. Dried herbs still hung from the rafters and jars still lined the shelves, everything covered in a generous coating of dust. Tora pressed the button on an ancient light switch and several wall sconces powered on, one instantly dying.

“You sure your granny wasn’t a witch?” Tora asked as he tore cobwebs from the ceiling. “This place is just missin’ a cauldron.”

“Oh we made sure to bury granny with her cauldron,” Poppy answered as she roamed. “She’ll probably need it in the afterlife.” Tora stared at Poppy with a raised brow before grinning, his dimples blooming.

“I always knew you were descended from witches,” he teased, watching Poppy as she rearranged a set of rocks on the windowsill.

“Well that’s how I got you, isn’t it?” she asked coyly. “I cast a spell.” Tora wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. She leaned into him as he rested his chin on her shoulder, his lips close to her ear.

“You did,” he whispered, a gentle shock racing up Poppy’s spine.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” Poppy said as she swayed with Tora’s weight. “But no one will ever think to look for us here. And besides, I kind of like it. It feels like home.” She ran her fingers over a polished grey stone, lost in a memory.

“Did you spend a lot of time here?” Tora asked, his breath warm and comforting.

“I did,” Poppy answered with a small smile. “Granny was always trying to teach me how to take care of myself, how to be independent. She never remarried after my grandpa died and I think she wanted me to be the same sort of woman that she was.”

“And what sort of woman is that?”

“Strong,” Poppy said softly. “I don’t know if she’d be proud of me or not.” Tora spun Poppy towards him and caught her face in his hands, his thumbs gentle on her cheeks.

“You’re the strongest person I know, Pops,” Tora insisted, his focus measured and full. “Don’t ever forget that.” She nodded before standing on her toes, her mouth searching until Tora met her lips in a perfect fit. Poppy detached herself with a laugh when Tora’s stomach growled.

“Hungry?”

“When am I not?” Tora asked as he looked around.

“Come on,” Poppy said as she took his hand. “There’s a market down the road.” 


	40. Forty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little regional dialect for ya: "in the sticks" generally means that you're in the middle of nowhere.

**_Everybody's got opinions on our thing_ **

**_Say we're flying down a path with no ending_ **

**_And if I die before I wake_ **

**_Ooh, don't let me wake up from this dream_ **

_Tiana Major9 & EARTHGANG, "Collide"_

Forty

Poppy was surprised at how quickly she readjusted to life on her grandmother’s farm. Things were different now without the chickens and pigs, but there were still plenty of tasks to occupy her time. She took to clearing the dust and cobwebs, scrubbed the kitchen until it sparkled, and even managed to wash the faded bedcoverings, grateful for the mindless labor. For the first time in months, she felt like an ordinary girl, like the girl who had spent so many long summer days with her granny, sharing stories as they picked vegetables or collected eggs.

Tora was another story.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he grumbled the first night. “I can’t get a fuckin’ signal out here.” He had wandered out into the dark, his phone held aloft as he walked up and down the road, cursing to himself. Poppy had grown bored after a few minutes of watching him and drifted back into the house, her nose buried in a book when he returned in a huff.

“Any luck?” she asked, her head propped on several ancient pillows.

“Nothin’,” he answered as he dropped onto the bed. “We’re in the fuckin’ sticks.”

“Isn’t that kind of the point?” Poppy wondered, smiling at Tora’s scowl.

“What if Ronzo needs me? Or what if Goliath…”

“Goliath knows where we are,” Poppy interrupted. “He knows how to find us.”

“Yeah,” Tora said, his eyes distant. “But what if somethin’ happens and we can’t help him?”

“Are you telling me you’re worried about Goliath?” Poppy’s face glowed, even as Tora’s frown deepened. “I knew it.”

“Ugh!” he whined, throwing his head under a pillow, his voice muffled. “This is the worst!”

“You know, granny has lots of books,” Poppy offered. “Why don’t you try reading something?”

“Sure, Pops,” Tora answered as he peeked out at her. “I’ve been meanin’ to check _Little House on the Prairie_ off my readin’ list.”

Poppy rolled her eyes and said nothing more, the rest of the week playing out in much the same fashion. She had no idea just how much boundless energy Tora contained until he was faced with no useful outlet, not even a video game. He tried to do minor repairs around the house using the tools from the cellar; he took more showers and naps than Poppy could count; and he picked up and then rapidly abandoned over a dozen books, each one left in some bizarre new spot. Poppy was happy that the country was forcing him to rest, but she worried about what it was doing to his mental state. He had always had intense physical jobs, and now he was stagnant and bored.

It wasn’t until late Sunday morning, days into their stay, that an idea finally emerged in Poppy’s brain.

“You want me…to chop wood?” Tora was incredulous as he and Poppy stood bundled in the cold beside a giant stack of logs, granny’s old splitting axe jutting out of a nearby stump.

“The house is freezing!” Poppy said through her chattering teeth. “And I thought this would be a good way for you to get rid of some of that energy.” Tora stared at Poppy as if she had grown another head.

“You do remember that I’m recoverin’ from gettin’ shot, right? Or is all of that dust goin’ to your head?”

“Oh please,” Poppy scoffed. “Now you suddenly want to listen to doctor’s orders? You’re doing so much better, and you don’t have to chop a lot – we just need something for the hearth!” Tora rested his hands on his hips, his eyes drifting back and forth between Poppy and the stump.

“You really think it’s cold in there?” he asked after a minute.

“It’s like an ice cube,” Poppy answered. “You just don’t notice because you’re always running at 100 degrees.” Tora laughed, his face suddenly bright, and Poppy knew that he loved the idea of playing with something sharp, especially when he didn’t have to fight her about it first.

“I do miss hittin’ stuff,” he admitted as he set down the first log. “Step back, Pops,” he said absently, waiting until she scurried several feet away. He gazed intently at his target, his palms gripping either end of the axe handle, and swung high over his head, his hands meeting at the base as the blade tore through the log with a thwack.

“Are you OK?” Poppy wondered when Tora didn’t move. “Tora?” He turned to her with a smirk.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “I shoulda been doin’ this for years.”

He was already through his third split by the time Poppy made it back inside, the steady sound of the chopping somehow peaceful. She picked at the food they bought at the market, her appetite slowly returning to her, her body already fuller. Something about the country, even in the snowy, slumbering winter, made Poppy feel awake again, as if the city had lulled her into a nightmare. She ran her hand over her belly as she ate a slice of bread, wanting to save her baby from that unending darkness; their child deserved to grow in the light.

Poppy was reading in an overstuffed armchair when Tora finally came in an hour later, his skin red from the cold air and his own heat. He panted as he tore off his jacket and sat on the sofa, his hair sticking to the thin coat of sweat on his face. He peeled his shirt from his slick body and leaned back to close his eyes, thoroughly sated. Poppy’s book lay forgotten in her lap as she studied him, her attention roaming over the hard angles of his chest and the glassy beads of perspiration that rolled over the intricate tattoos. Her gaze traveled lazily up the thick column of his throat, hovered on his lips, and finally came to rest on his eyes, which were open and watching her.

“Poppy,” he said softly. “C’mere.”

Poppy stood and walked to where Tora sat, centering herself between his sprawled legs. He bent forward, his face level with her neck, and pushed her hair from her shoulder, dotting her skin with small kisses. Poppy wrapped her fingers in Tora’s damp locks, overwhelmed by the smell of salt and sweat, his body pulsing with a potent virility. She wanted him – wildly, passionately, completely.

“Tora,” she breathed. “Can we go slow?” Tora pulled back to look at her, one hand cupping her cheek.

“You’re in charge,” he whispered. “I won’t do anything unless you tell me to.” Poppy wanted to cry, all of her emotions pushing towards the surface of her composure. She felt fragile but safe.

“Then kiss me,” she said simply.

Tora was anxious to comply, his lips quickly finding hers. He remained chaste, their mouths snug but closed, until Poppy’s tongue darted out. Tora needed no further incentive, pressing his own tongue deep, both of them circling, eager for the familiar mingling of their tastes. Poppy began to tease with tiny licks and Tora growled, his eyes growing dark when Poppy caught his bottom lip between her teeth.

“Touch me,” she murmured as she held Tora’s face.

His large hands traced the curve of her hips, running down her legs before crawling up to gently squeeze her rear. He rubbed small circles on her back, slowly pushing up her shirt, leaving delicate kisses across her collarbone and chest. Tora pulled the fabric over Poppy’s head and the corner of his mouth twitched at the sight of her bare breasts. He cupped them, carefully kneading, his thumbs occasionally tracing her pink nipples. Poppy’s skin burned and she was sure her lip would be bruised from her own desperate gnawing.

“Use your mouth,” she whimpered. Something primal flashed across Tora’s face and Poppy nearly came undone, the tingling building between her legs. “ _Please_.”

Tora ran the flat of his tongue over each nipple, Poppy gripping the back of his head as she mewled. His throat hummed with pleasure and approval as he drew one wet peak into his mouth, sucking and tugging, his cheeks hollow with his efforts. Poppy collapsed into him as he released her with a light pop, flicking his tongue back and forth over the stiff nub before moving to the other side.

“God I’ve missed your tits,” he said, trailing his open mouth down her sternum. Poppy could barely respond, all of her nerves screaming.

“Tora,” she moaned, her eyelids heavy. “Will you…will you…?” Tora stilled before dragging down the zipper on Poppy’s pants, his lips pressed to her stomach. He groaned when he spotted her soaked panties. Gripping her hips, he made to spin them both and lay Poppy on the sofa, but she stopped him, her feet firmly planted.

“No, no,” she started, her voice slightly panicked.

“What?” Tora asked as he searched her face. “Is it too much?”

“No, it’s not that,” Poppy answered quickly. “It’s just…I want to be on top. I want to be able to look in your eyes.”

Tora thought for a moment before dropping to his knees, his jeans growing ever snugger around his shape. He kept his gaze on Poppy’s face as he dipped his head between her legs, tonguing her through her panties, easily supporting her weight as she nearly crumbled to the floor. She clung to Tora’s solid form, her legs quivering, as he worked his mouth over the wet fabric, his thumb rubbing lazy circles around her clit. He caught one of the cotton straps in his mouth and tugged it down Poppy’s leg, his teeth grazing her thigh. The panties fell and Tora buried his face in Poppy’s crotch, lapping between her lips, his tongue flickering over her most sensitive spot. Poppy began to roll her nipple between her fingers, her other hand still grasping Tora for support, his eyes possessive as he watched her. He ate her like a peach, slurping up her juices, the room filling with the squelch of her wetness. Poppy blindly groped for one of Tora’s hands and brought it between her legs, pressing his index finger against her entrance.

“Pops,” he breathed, his chin slick. “You sure?” Poppy nodded and placed her palm over his, pushing him inside. Her eyes fluttered closed and her head fell onto his, their limbs tangled as he curved his long digit and slowly pumped in and out, adding his middle finger when she began to moan. Poppy writhed against his knuckles, the tingling in her body building to a wild fizz, every inch of skin that Tora touched humming with an aching sweetness, close to the edge of something more.

“Tora,” she said against his hair. “I need you inside me.” Tora held Poppy for a long second before removing his fingers. He stood and began to undo his jeans, Poppy’s lips tightly pursed as she avoided his eyes.

“Poppy,” he whispered. “Look at me.” She hesitated before meeting his stare, his expression tender. “It’s me. It’s just me.” Poppy nodded and gripped his zipper, slowly lowering it until her hand brushed against his velvet erection. Tora hissed as Poppy gently grasped his cock, his pants joining her clothes on the floor. She stroked him languidly, reacquainting herself with his thickness and heat.

“C’mere,” he said as he took Poppy’s hand, drawing her to the sofa. He sat with his legs wide and let her climb on top, his manhood nestled between her thighs. “Take your time.” Poppy gingerly ground herself against him, the head of his cock tickling her clit.

“I’m ready,” she finally murmured, lifting herself up. They both moaned in a strangled ecstasy as she sunk onto him, her pussy full. She swirled her hips in a wicked S-shape and Tora’s head dropped backward, his utterances more animal than man.

Poppy worked at a steady pace, her face twisted in savage pleasure. She pressed her forehead to Tora’s and their gazes locked, each falling into the other. Poppy concentrated on that comforting golden hue, Tora’s name repeating in her mind as he throbbed inside of her, pressing deeper into her pain. Her energy waned as the pressure built and Tora pulled her flush against his chest, his feet steady as he thrust into her. He wedged a hand between them and frantically rubbed Poppy’s swollen clit, the sensations heightened beyond time, beyond space, beyond reason. Poppy latched onto Tora, her arms like vines, and sunk her teeth into his shoulder, her screams muffled as she came. Tora lost the last of his control as Poppy clenched around him, exploding with a ferocious roar.

The room came back into focus, the only sound their wild panting.

“I love you,” Tora breathed. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I love you, too, Tora,” Poppy answered, her tears blending with their sweat. “I love you so fucking much.”


	41. Forty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Part 1
> 
> I apologize if this is not your cup of tea, but it's certainly mine *sip*

**_I'm so tired of the same old crud_ **

**_Sweet baby, I need fresh blood_ **

_Eels, "Fresh Blood"_

Forty-One

“Tora?”

“Hm?”

“How come you never talk dirty to me?”

“ _What_?” Tora asked sharply as he spun in the bed. “Is that…something you want?” He rested his head on his arm and studied Poppy. “I mean, after everything that happened?” Poppy stared at the ceiling. She had been lost in an illusion of normalcy since coming to the country, but it only took a single spark to reignite her fear.

“I’m sorry, Pops,” Tora said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No, it’s OK,” she answered, her voice level.

“Do you…wanna talk about it?” The silence crawled between them.

“I don’t know,” she confessed, her eyes distant. “But I know I don’t wanna talk about it here. Not when we’re together like this.”

Tora gave a small smirk and brushed a stray lock from Poppy’s face, his fingers lingering on her bare shoulder. A cold rain tapped against the roof, Poppy suddenly anxious for Tora to build a fire in the hearth. They had finally found a suitable release for all of Tora’s stifled energy, making love in every room of the house, their bodies desperate to reconnect. Poppy hoped granny wouldn’t be too upset with her.

“I didn’t know you liked hearing dirty talk,” Tora teased.

“Well to be honest, I don’t know if I do, either,” Poppy admitted. “I feel like I’m always the one doing it. You’re very demanding – did you know that?” Tora’s smile grew.

“I can’t help it, kid,” he said innocently. “You have no idea how fuckin’ hot it is to hear you say those filthy things.”

“Well then stop being greedy and let me enjoy it, too!” She poked Tora’s ribs and he seized her arm, drawing her to him, his face lost in her hair. Poppy wiggled and laughed as he caught her earlobe between his teeth, his breath warming her skin.

“You want me to talk dirty to ya, little girl?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice shaking. “Please.” Tora chuckled, the vibration coursing through her body. He pulled away quickly and rolled out of bed, walking purposefully towards the bathroom.

“Hey!” Poppy cried. “What the heck?!”

“It’s no fun if it’s not a surprise!” he called over the bubbling of the sink. “You’ll just have to wait!” Poppy folded her arms and pouted.

“Well that’s just rude,” she mumbled.

* * *

Poppy was done with winter; she was done with the ice and the snow and the howling wind cascading over the roof every night. She had forgotten how inhospitable the countryside could be in the midst of the season’s dark decay, challenging the will of any living thing that hadn’t gone to ground. Tora seemed maddeningly unbothered by the endless freeze; if anything, he thrived in it, the furnace of his body radiating a glowing comfort. Poppy latched onto him whenever she could, clinging to him at night until her limbs began to thaw. But the warmth was only ever temporary, and Poppy needed something more.

“What are you doin’, Pops?” Tora asked one evening from the sofa, watching in confusion as Poppy sat on the floor between his tree-sized legs, a book in her hands.

“This house is like a freezer! You’re the only hot thing in it.”

“Why thank you,” Tora joked. Poppy shot him a look over her shoulder.

“You know what I mean.”

“So is that why you’ve been touchin’ me so much?” he wondered as he leaned forward. “And here I thought you liked me.”

“You know I like you,” she said absently. Tora dipped his head and pressed his lips to the skin behind Poppy’s ear.

“Why don’t you show me how much you like me?” he asked softly, running his palms down the front of Poppy’s shirt to squeeze her breasts.

“Is sex all you think about?” Her words were sparse and unconvincing, her eyes falling closed as Tora kneaded her with his fingertips.

“I believe you’re the one who asked for the dirty talk, sweetheart,” he reminded Poppy, tossing her book across the room. “And I think fuckin’ that little cunt of yours will keep you nice and warm.”

“Tora!” Poppy wasn’t sure if she was more shocked or aroused. Tora’s words were confident but adoring; insistent but relaxed.

“Daddy,” he corrected.

“W-what?” Poppy stammered.

“Call me Daddy,” he whispered as he traced her jaw, one hand still on her chest. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” Poppy nodded and Tora made a disapproving tsk. “Say it.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she moaned. Tora growled and gathered her hair in his fist, pulling it aside to leave sloppy kisses across her nape.

“Good girl.” He found her nipple through the fabric of her shirt and began to roll it. “You like it when I play with your tits, don’t you, little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Poppy answered, grasping Tora’s forearm as it worked its way down her body. He slid his hand under the waistband of her shorts and panties, his fingers swirling over her clit.

“And you like it when I play with your tight little pussy, don’t you?” Poppy’s head fell back against Tora, his lips moving across her cheek. “Take these off, sweetheart. I wanna get you nice and wet.”

Poppy hiked up her hips and peeled the garments away, her knees spread wide, every inch of her exposed. Tora pursed his lips above Poppy’s head and a line of spit trailed honey-slow from his mouth to Poppy’s delicate nub, his fingers mixing the saliva with her own dew.

“Fuck, Poppy,” Tora groaned. “Listen to how wet you are.” He rubbed frantically between her lips, the quiet squish almost lost amidst Poppy’s moans. “You want me to fuck your wet cunt with my fingers?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Poppy pleaded. “Please fuck me with your fingers.”

“You gotta do somethin’ for me first, little girl,” Tora said with a chuckle.

“W-what?” Poppy was lost in a daze, enamored with Tora’s wicked bossiness.

“Show me your tits.” She quickly obliged, lifting her shirt to her neck and tugging down the lace of her bra, her breasts bobbing. “Good girl.” Tora let two more thin channels of spit land on each of Poppy’s stiff nipples. “Now play with them.” Poppy caressed both breasts with the flat of her palm before finding the wet peaks, tweaking them until she gasped. Tora pressed his chin against Poppy’s shoulder as his fingers entered her.

“ _Daddy_ ,” she panted as he began to pump into her, his digits curving in a delicious arc that tickled her hidden spots.

“You like that, little girl?” Tora breathed against Poppy’s ear. “You like feelin’ my fingers in your pussy? God you’re so fuckin’ tight.”

“Harder, Daddy,” Poppy begged. Tora slammed the heal of his hand against her clit with every thrust, Poppy’s legs quivering as she drowned in the sensations. She wasn’t sure of who or where she was, but she knew that Tora was with her, pushing her higher and higher towards her breaking point. She was climbing through the clouds, anxious to see the sun above.

“I’m coming!” Poppy cried. She dug her nails into Tora’s arm, tethering herself to his solidness. He surrounded her on all sides, enveloping her dizzy senses.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Tora grunted. “Come for Daddy.” Poppy could take no more. Tremors raced through her body and Tora’s fingers brought her past the edge, fast and wild.

“Fuck!” she screamed, given over to the blinding light. Tora continued to move inside of her, milking every last tremble as he kissed Poppy’s sweaty cheek.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re such a good girl.” He pulled his glistening fingers free and brought them to Poppy’s mouth. “Taste yourself. Taste how sweet you are.” Poppy sucked them clean, her eyes huge and innocent as she looked up at Tora, his gaze lascivious. “Do you want more, little girl?” Poppy nodded.

“Yes, Daddy,” she said coyly. “I want more.”

“OK, sweetheart,” Tora smiled, a devilish lilt to his tone. “Tell me where you want my cock.”


	42. Forty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Part 2

**_My whole existence is flawed,_ **

**_You get me closer to God_ **

_Nine Inch Nails, "Closer"_

Forty-Two

“Tell me where you want my cock.”

Poppy felt delirious as Tora’s large hand cupped her mound.

“Do you want it here?”

He walked his fingers between her breasts.

“Or here?”

His lips caught hers and he pushed his tongue inside.

“Or here?” He asked as he pulled away, Poppy nodding. “Say it, sweetheart. Say you want my cock in your mouth.”

“I want your cock in my mouth,” she repeated softly. “Please, Daddy.” A fire flickered in Tora’s eyes, his voice husky when he spoke.

“Get on your knees, little girl.”

Poppy twisted obediently, turning to face the sofa. Tora stood and tore off his shirt, his erection springing free as he unzipped his jeans, the fabric pooling at his feet. His skin was swollen and red, thick with his passion. Poppy crawled to him and grasped his shaft, Tora hissing as she stroked him tentatively, her gaze fixed on his face. His hips instinctively moved towards her.

“Open your mouth,” he rasped, tracing Poppy’s lips with his tip. “I wanna see you suck my cock.” Poppy’s jaw fell slack as she took him in, her head gently bobbing. “Fuck, just like that. Good girl.”

Poppy pushed deeper, Tora filling every inch, her body trembling with erotic power. His head breached the back of her throat and she lightly gagged, Tora cursing as he grasped her hair, coaxing her onward while still giving her the room to pull free. He slowly thrust into her, spittle dripping onto Poppy’s chest.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groaned. “Suck my cock.” Poppy met Tora’s eyes as she worked, her lips dragging across his flesh and stalling around the corona, her mouth creating a delicate suction as her tongue flickered over the ridge. “ _Fuck_ , Poppy. You look so hot with my big cock in your pretty little mouth.” She released him with a pop.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she smiled before continuing, Tora’s head falling back.

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathed. “Take my cock just like that. And let me see you play with yourself. Play with your pussy for me.” Poppy slurped at Tora’s head as she ground her still sensitive clit against her hand, Tora watching intently. He moaned as he took hold of himself, rapidly darting in and out of Poppy’s mouth, the tip pulling at her cheeks.

“You want me to fuck that tight little cunt of yours?” he growled, saliva dripping between them.

“Yes, Daddy,” she panted.

“Say it.”

“I want you to fuck my tight little cunt, Daddy.” Tora’s face crumbled.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Poppy,” he said in wonder as he brought Poppy to her feet, crushing his lips against hers. He clutched her naked rear and hoisted her up, Poppy winding her legs around his torso. “I’m gonna suck on those perfect tits of yours,” he whispered in Poppy’s ear as he carried her to the bedroom. “And then I’m gonna fuck you until you forget your name, and you’re gonna swallow my cum, because you’re a good little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said between kisses to his neck. “I’m your good little girl.”

Tora laid Poppy on the bed and caught her nipple between his teeth, suckling hard as he pulled her skin taut. Poppy let out an ecstatic cry, her hands lost in Tora’s thick mane as he tugged and lapped, his tongue dancing wildly. His middle finger found her still soaking clit and he pressed up into her hood, tickling the nub.

“D-Daddy,” Poppy stuttered. “Please fuck me, Daddy.” Tora laughed as he released Poppy’s breast, spreading her legs to lay between them. He dipped his head down to her thighs and gave her pussy one long lick, Poppy gasping.

“You want this cock, little girl?” he asked as he teased her entrance.

“Yes, Daddy. I want your cock!” The last sentence came out more forceful than Poppy had intended, but she thought she might explode from the anticipation. Tora gave one final smirk before sinking inside of her, both of them groaning. His hips moved like a wave as he thrust in and out, each turn gaining momentum. Poppy clenched her inner muscles and Tora froze.

“Do that again,” he demanded. Poppy smiled and tightened around him, Tora’s eyes nearly rolling back in his head. “Fuck. _Fuck_. Keep squeezin’ my cock with your tight little pussy. That’s it, that’s it.”

Tora’s pace quickened, his balls smacking against Poppy as his mouth devoured hers, her tiny whimpers mingling with his lusty rumbles. Poppy drew him closer, deeper, with her feet wrapped around his back, her breasts swaying up and down. Tora lost all semblance of composure, ferociously pounding as the bedframe rattled. He grabbed one of Poppy’s legs from behind him and brought it up to his chest, Poppy screaming as he hit her secret spot again and again, both of them dangerously close to the edge. The room filled with the smack of their bodies, Poppy clawing at the sheets.

“I’m gonna come,” Tora grunted.

“Daddy!” Poppy cried as she found her own release. “Come in my mouth, Daddy!” Tora climbed up to the pillows and angled Poppy’s open lips towards him, his hand a wild blur as he stroked. He roared as he erupted, his milky streams of cum landing on Poppy’s tongue, over and over until he was spent.

“Swallow my cum, Poppy,” he said between breaths, watching her throat bob. “Good girl. You’re such a good girl.”

Tora laid flat on his back, his hand on his chest as he recovered. As his focus returned, he realized that the mattress was shaking. He looked quickly to Poppy, who had yet to move from the position he had left her in, her whole body quaking. He was above her in a second, cupping her cheek as he studied her face, her eyes glassy and distant.

“Poppy,” he rasped. “Look at me, Poppy.” She turned towards him with a drowsy expression. “Are you OK? Did you not like it?”

“No, I liked it,” Poppy answered. “I liked it a lot. I just…I can’t stop shaking. I don’t know why.” Tora kissed her forehead.

“It’s adrenaline, sweetheart. It’ll pass. Lemme get you some water.” Tora tried to stand but Poppy stopped him.

“No, wait. Please just hold me.”

He brought Poppy into his arms, rubbing her back until the tremors subsided. Poppy ran her lips across the inky peonies on his skin, gently nibbling at his jaw.

“So you like being called Daddy?” Poppy asked after a few minutes. Tora grew bashful.

“I mean, it’s not…I just get caught up sometimes…”

“I like it,” Poppy interrupted as she caressed his taut stomach. “We’ll just have to think of something else for the baby to call you. I’m the only one who gets to call you Daddy.” Tora relaxed, his nose lost in the floral musk of Poppy’s hair.

“Good girl,” he murmured.


	43. Forty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I heard through the grapevine that some apps are ripping off works from AO3, so I'm considering making my stories available only to those with AO3 accounts. Thoughts/questions/comments/threats?

**_Can the killer in me_ **

**_Tame the fire in you?_ **

**_I know there's something waiting for us._ **

**_I am sick of the chase,_ **

**_But I'm stupid in love_ **

**_And there's nothing I can do,_ **

**_And there's nothing I can do._ **

_Phoebe Bridgers, "Killer"_

Forty-Three

Ares Street reeked of shit. Not the literal kind, but the kind that brewed between so many filthy bodies and deeds. Food carts run by twisted old crones clashed with hardened thugs performing their daily shakedowns of the destitute and weak. They could sniff out goodness like a decay, like something that needed to be consumed by their darkness. Clubs and bars were shoddy covers for brothels and drug dens, women falling out of doorways and their own clothes. The air was one black cloud of smoke and grease, barely absorbing the din.

Goliath had been wandering the tributaries of the side streets for hours, working off of nothing but a description and two different names. No one knew a Destiny or a Rose, and they certainly didn’t know anyone who sounded as clean as the girl he described. The whole process filled his stomach with a boiling anxiety, his hood pulled low to conceal his hair. It was only a matter of time before he made some fatal flaw; before his golden eye caught the knowing glance of someone familiar. He pressed onward through the fear, telling himself to try just one more door, just one more dive, sure that each would be either the right one or his last.

“Ya lonely, sweetheart?” A buxom blonde called from a covered archway. “Need some company?” Goliath sidled towards her, peeking over her shoulder towards the other women waiting inside. Some of the faces were old, and some were painfully young. None of them were Rose.

“Scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours,” Goliath said with an arched brow.

“Honey, I’ll scratch more than ya back.” She dipped a manicured claw towards Goliath’s crotch, pouting when he stopped her, his hand coiled around her wrist.

“I need information,” he rasped as the woman pulled free.

“Make it worth my while.” She crossed her arms and watched as Goliath fished a roll of bills from his pocket, her eyes burning with want. “That’s quite a wad ya got there.”

“Play nice,” Goliath warned, “or I’ll find someone who will.” The woman looked him up and down, her face warped by her fractured life. Goliath noticed fresh track marks in her arms, part of him sad that his money would inevitably end up in her veins. 

“What do ya want, sweetheart?” she asked softly, her tone bordering on maternal. Goliath tried and failed to hide his surprise. “I have a son around your age,” she said as means of an explanation.

“And you tried to sleep with me.” It was a statement of realization and pain, of two lost souls recognizing one another through the muck.

“A girl’s gotta eat,” she answered simply. Goliath nodded, his mouth twitching towards a regretful smirk.

“I’m lookin’ for a girl,” he started. “Tall, about my height. Thin. Long black hair, big brown eyes. Full lips. Sarcastic pain in the ass. Goes by Destiny or Rose.”

“And her tits?” the woman asked with a wry smile.

“C-cup,” Goliath answered quickly and confidently. The woman laughed.

“Ya know you’re not s’pposed to fall in love with the hookers, right?” she teased. “Ya just s’pposed to fuck ‘em.”

“It’s not like that,” Goliath mumbled, his cheeks red. “Do ya know her?” The woman tapped a finger against her chin as she thought.

“Don’t know no Destiny or Rose,” she finally said. Like so many other times that night, Goliath felt his body deflate in defeat. “But I do know a Penny, and she sure sounds like the spittin’ image of your girl.” Goliath remained wary. 

“Penny, huh? And where can I find this Penny?” The woman grinned and reared her chin towards the second story of the building, the red windows glowing like embers. Goliath frowned.

“Rose told me she worked for herself.”

“ _Penny_ does work for herself,” the woman corrected him. “She just needed a place to stay for a few days. This city ain’t kind to the young ones, although I can see ya already knew that.” Goliath met the woman’s watery blue eyes, gauging her honesty. He could be walking into a trap, into violence, into death.

“I wanna see her. I’ll pay.” The woman gave him another onceover, her tongue rolling over her teeth.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she said as she turned. “Ya might be just what she needs.”

They ascended a narrow staircase, dozens of eyes crawling over Goliath’s skin. A girl no older than 12 sat in a gilded chair by the hearth, her chest still flat beneath her pink tube top. Goliath clenched his jaw and looked away in disgust. The second floor was poorly lit, the flicker of the sconces dancing off a row of cherry red doors. Squeaks and moans wafted towards them as they walked down the line towards the last one.

“Ya shouldn’t let that little girl work here,” Goliath grumbled, his voice angry and low.

“Sure,” the woman started. “Maybe I’ll send her back to her father, who raped her. Or let one of the gangs pass her around. Would that be better for her?” Goliath’s glare faltered. “The men don’t touch her. She’s a smart girl, good with numbers. She cleans for me and sometimes tries her hand at my books. She’s got a dozen mothers here, which is more than I can say for her real family.” The woman stared at Goliath, challenging him to say more. She rolled her eyes before gently tapping on the door.

“Yeah?” a voice chirped from inside.

“Pen? You got a visitor. A handsome one.” The door swung open, Rose standing tall and pale on the other side, her left eye shining with a fresh bruise. The confusion on her face dissolved into annoyance and shock.

“Goliath,” she whispered. “What are ya doin’ here?”

“Goliath,” the older woman repeated. “My my, what a big… _name_.” Rose sighed and disappeared back into the room.

“Thanks, Sharon!” she called. “Your services are no longer required!” Goliath slipped after Rose but Sharon stopped him with a hand on his bicep.

“I believe ya owe me somethin’,” she said before inching towards Goliath’s ear. “Unless ya wanna show me how ya got that name of yours.” Goliath peeled several hundreds from the roll.

“Get that girl some real clothes,” he ordered before pulling free. He walked into the room and closed the door with a quiet click. Rose stood with her back to him, hugging herself as she looked out the window onto the alley, her shoulder blades tenting her oversized shirt.

“Who did that to your face?” Goliath tried to keep his voice level, but he knew some of his wild rage poked through the surface. 

“Does it matter?” Rose asked softly. “It’s not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.”

“Tell me who,” Goliath said through his teeth. Rose spun towards him, her eyes narrowed.

“Why? So you can be my hero? So you can save me?” She threw herself into an overstuffed chair, insolent as a teenager. “I don’t need savin’.”

Goliath surveyed the room, taking in the peeling wallpaper and the abused bed, the old iron frame barely supporting the lumpy mattress. Sirens and horns blared from the street and a frantic, muttering dope fiend passed in the alley below. Goliath ran his fingers through a thick coat of dust on the vanity, his stomach turning at the used needles and the opened tubes of cakey lipstick.

“So this is home?” he wondered. Rose scowled.

“What are ya askin’ me?”

“Ya know what I’m askin’ ya,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I’m askin’ ya where ya live.”

“I live with whoever buys me for the night,” Rose answered quietly. Goliath bit his lip and nodded.

“Ya coulda told me you didn’t have anywhere to go.” Rose shrugged.

“Is that why ya came here?” she asked. “Ya wanted to scold me for lyin’?”

“I came here because I wanted to make sure you were OK.” Goliath felt a swell of energy like the one he had felt back in the safe house. Rose’s presence was palpable, even from across the room. He thought he could see the same reaction move across her face.

“Why wouldn’t I be OK?” she wondered as she crossed her arms. “Pretty sure I’ve been doin’ OK without ya.”

“That’s not what that black eye says.” Goliath waited as Rose weighed something in her mind, entertaining it for only a moment before letting it evaporate. She tore her eyes from his.

“Just leave me alone, Goliath,” she whispered. “I’m not a fuckin’ charity case.” Goliath’s anger soared, his anxiety erupting into rage. 

“I never said ya were!” he shouted. Rose’s head snapped towards him. “What is your fuckin’ problem?”

“My problem?!” Rose yelled as she stood, one indignant finger to her chest. “I’m not the fuckin’ stalker here!”

“I’m not stalkin’ ya!” Goliath’s voice cracked but he kept going. “You disappeared without a single fuckin’ word – you coulda been dead in a fuckin’ gutter and I woulda never known!”

“So what’s your point?” Rose asked as she moved closer. “You wanna save me? You wanna be a fuckin’ hero?”

“Do I look like I can save anyone?!” Goliath ripped off his hood, his chest heaving as he held out his arms. “Look at me! I’m a fuckin’ train wreck! I faked my own death, and ya know what people said? They said they were happy that I was gone!” Rose shook her head and looked away from his face.

“I think you’re fuckin’ lonely,” Goliath went on. “And I think ya fuckin’ hate it, so ya tell yourself that ya don’t need people, that you’re the one that decided not to have them around, to make yourself feel better. Because that’s better than everyone leavin’ ya…or everyone wishin’ ya were really dead.”

Rose lifted her eyes, and for the first time Goliath saw no wall nor fortress between the two of them. They were simply staring at one another as they were, deeply flawed in their flesh and minds. Goliath wanted to hold Rose, to use his body if his words wouldn’t work, but the air between them was fragile, one of Rose’s toes still dipped in a deep pool of doubt. He waited, tightening his fists until they turned white, his heart snapping like a twig as Rose’s steely composure returned.

“This is such bullshit,” she rasped as she stepped towards him. “Ya don’t give a shit about me.”

“Rose…”

“Men don’t care about anything.” She grasped Goliath’s belt buckle, his whole body suddenly humming. “They don’t care about anything but sex.”

“Rose, stop it.”

“Ya just couldn’t stand it that ya didn’t get the chance to fuck me.” She undid the clasp and reached for the button on his jeans.

“Goddamnit, Rose.”

“So let’s get it out of ya system,” she said as she tugged at the zipper. “Fuck me and then ya can leave me the fuck alone!”

“STOP IT!” Goliath roared as he grabbed Rose’s wrists and yanked them away. “What is wrong with you?!”

“There is no helpin’ me, Goliath,” Rose breathed. “So either fuck me or get out.” Goliath weighed the offer, ruminating on the repercussions if he listened to his arousal. She was only inches away, already in his hold. It was only a matter of leaning forward, of pulling her closer, and he could be inside of her, pushing towards that delicious release that he was so desperate for.

“You’re right,” he whispered. “I do wanna fuck ya. But not like this.” He dropped her hands and opened the door, willing his feet to work. He stopped in the threshold, unable to look back as he spoke. “Balthuman found the safe house. Tora thought maybe ya snitched, especially because of the way ya left. I coulda come here to ask ya about that, but I didn’t…because I already knew it wasn’t you.”

He left without another word. 


	44. Forty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Discussion of alcoholism and suicide

**_I don't need another friend_ **

**_When most of them_ **

**_I can barely keep up with._ **

**_I'm perfectly able to hold my own hand,_ **

**_But I still can't kiss my own neck_ **

_Wye Oak, "Civilian"_

Forty-Four

The staircase shook as Goliath stomped down, half-naked women turning to gawk at his obvious anger. He found Sharon near the fireplace, wrapping a sweater around the young girl’s shoulders.

“That didn’t take long,” Sharon muttered without looking up.

“Who hit her?” Goliath asked through his teeth.

“She didn’t tell ya?” Goliath shook his head once, his jaw tightly clenched. “Then why should I?”

“Why are ya tryin’ to protect these assholes that beat on ya?” Goliath was incredulous, his eyes growing with his rage. Sharon straightened and placed one telltale hand on her hip, looking down her nose as she spoke.

“I’m not tryin’ to protect anyone but my girls,” she said, “Penny included.”

“Is that why _Rose_ has that black eye?” Goliath wondered, his tone mocking. “Because ya were protectin’ her?” Sharon studied him for a long moment.

“I swear you men are all the same.”

“I’m not like those guys,” Goliath growled as he stepped forward. The girl in the chair watched carefully, her large blue eyes tracking every movement.

“Sure ya are, sweetheart. Ya think ya know what’s best for a woman, no matter how many times she says otherwise. Tell me somethin’, though – have ya ever asked Penny what _she_ wants, what _she_ needs?”

Goliath stayed quiet, Sharon’s question tumbling through his head. He was stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. Rose’s face appeared in his mind, as soft and relaxed as it had been during their teasing back at the safe house, back when Goliath had temporarily abandoned his role as protector and let himself be human. He had to let Rose be human, too.

“Don’t assume ya know what’s best for someone, sweetheart,” Sharon nearly whispered, the motherly warmth returning to her voice. “Ya have to ask, and ya have to wait.” Goliath nodded as he drew his phone from his pocket.

“Will ya give her my number? Tell her she can reach me any time.” Sharon folded her arms across her ample chest, one brow arched high. “Only if she wants to,” he added quickly.

“Sure, hon,” she agreed as she fished her own phone from her bra. “But only because I can tell she likes ya.” Goliath’s whole body perked like a flower in spring.

“How do ya know that?” he asked, trying to hide his excitement. Sharon’s cheek lifted in a crooked smirk.

“’Cause she didn’t slam the door in your face.”

* * *

“ _Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, `and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice `without pictures or conversation?'_

“ _So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her…_ ”

“Um, Pops?” Poppy looked up from her book to find Tora watching her from the bedroom door, his arms crossed, a tiny smile playing across his features. “Who ya readin’ to?”

“The baby,” she said simply.

“I don’t think whatever’s in your belly counts as a baby yet,” Tora teased.

“Well whatever it is, it’s going to need extra love.” Poppy patted her stomach as her face darkened. “I want us to be good parents, especially if this little bean is born in the middle of all of this.”

Tora frowned. Poppy didn’t have to explain what she meant by _this_. He knew it was maybe the least ideal situation to bring a child into, and his heart cracked every time he thought of all the violent possibilities. He watched Poppy as she concentrated on the book, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“Ya never told me about your parents,” Tora said as he flopped onto the bed, dipping his head under Poppy’s arm to press his cheek to her chest. She let the book fall to her side, stroking his small wisps of hair.

“What do you want to know?” she asked sadly. Tora twisted his neck to see her face.

“What is it? Do ya not want to talk about it?” Tora had never considered that someone as bright and hopeful as Poppy would have anything but glowing tales of her youth. He imagined her stories would be full of hugs and family vacations and birthday parties with friends. 

“No, it’s OK,” she answered quietly. “I just never know where to start.” Tora’s hand roamed lovingly over Poppy’s body, searching for a baby bump that wasn’t there yet.

“What did your dad do?” Poppy’s eyes reached into the distance, back towards somewhere Tora couldn’t go.

“I never knew my dad,” Poppy said. “My mom always told me that he died in a car accident when I was a baby, but granny told me the truth when I was a teenager. My parents didn’t know each other at all. They slept together once and my mom got pregnant, and she never saw him again.” Poppy stopped and the silence grew unbearable as Tora thought of what to say, his mind racing with a thousand useless words.

“Pops…”

“I really loved my mom,” she interrupted. “But she wasn’t…OK. She’d disappear a lot and I’d come stay with granny. I just thought that was what everyone did. I thought maybe mom had to work a lot since my dad wasn’t around to help.” Tora swallowed hard and pulled Poppy closer to him, as if their two broken halves could make one whole. But Tora knew that Poppy wasn’t broken, not like him, even if she came from a broken place.

“She was an alcoholic.” Poppy’s voice cracked as she went on. “I thought she was just really happy and really fun whenever she was drunk around me. She’d come to granny’s to get me, but then they’d start fighting and mom would leave without me. I used to get angry about it because I wanted to go be with my fun mom. I didn’t want to pick vegetables with my boring old grandma.” Poppy sniffed and Tora caught one of her tears against his thumb, crawling up to the pillows to rest his head beside hers.

“She’s gone now,” Poppy said, her glassy eyes staring into his. “She…she didn’t want to live anymore.”

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Tora breathed as Poppy collapsed against him. “Why didn’t ya tell me any of this?”

“Well we’ve been kind of preoccupied,” she choked through her tiny sobs. “And I didn’t want you to think I was cursed or something.”

“Cursed?” Tora asked as he lifted Poppy’s chin. “Why the fuck would ya think that?”

“Because my mom was an alcoholic,” Poppy answered. “And who knows who my dad was? He could have been an ax murderer!” Tora huffed out a laugh and Poppy did the same, both desperate for a healing breath. Tora brushed away the rest of Poppy’s tears, his fingers lingering on her skin.

“What if this baby is fucked up?” Poppy whispered. “What if it absorbs all of this bad energy and turns into a monster?”

“Ya mean like me?” Tora asked bluntly, Poppy’s face turning white.

“NO!” she cried. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Oh so ya mean like you?”

“Tora!” He caught her hand when she tried to swat at him.

“We’ve both been through a lot of fucked up shit, Pops,” he said. “ _A lot_. But I know for a fuckin’ fact that you’re not a bad person, and for some reason, ya seem to know for a fact that _I’m_ not a bad person.”

“You’re not,” Poppy insisted. Tora rolled his eyes.

“My point is that we’ve seen how to do things wrong,” he went on, “so now we know how to do them right.” Poppy’s brow furrowed as she thought. “You’re not cursed, kid. I’m not the religious type, but if you’re anything, you’re a fuckin’ blessin’. OK?” Poppy met his gaze and nodded.

“I guess,” she agreed.

“Good.” Tora fit his lips to Poppy’s, breathing in her sweetness and the way she melted into him, boneless as a puddle. “Why don’t ya read a little more?”

“But you’re right - there’s no baby in there yet.”

“Yeah,” Tora said as he kissed Poppy’s palm. “But _I_ kinda liked it.”

* * *

Quincey fanned his fingers through the pile of photos, his golden rings glinting off of the glossy images.

“There’s nothin’ here, boss,” a burly man said from behind him. “What could we possibly be lookin’ for?”

They stood amongst the discarded ruins of Poppy’s apartment, a group of guards hovering anxiously around their master. This was the Balthuman clan’s third visit to the place, the first happening after Poppy and Tora had escaped their punishment. Quincey knew that they wouldn’t be dumb enough to come back here, but he was still desperate for clues. He needed something, anything, that would guide him towards their whereabouts. His father would accept nothing less than a thorough execution of the job at hand, and Quincey’s own soul had developed a taste for blood. To the Balthuman men, this was about justice; violent, painful justice. 

“You’re all doing a piss poor job.” Quincey’s tone was haughty and bored, but his face bore something more savage. “I suggest you start trying harder, unless you want to end up like our dear friend Les.”

The men dove back into the stacks of clothes and trampled papers, trying to gauge their boss’s demeanor from the corners of their eyes. Quincey had learned to give nothing away, not love nor hate. The guards didn’t need to know his feelings to follow his orders; what mattered was their blind loyalty, something that Tora had failed at. Quincey wouldn’t form an emotional attachment with one of his subordinates – not again.

Quincey’s boots clicked across the tile floor as he circled the small mountain of photographs, quickly picking up and discarding each one. Poppy in the country; Poppy and her friends; Poppy holding hands with a dark-haired boy. None of it meant anything to Quincey beyond sparse connections, and Vincent Balthuman had thoroughly drilled the dangers of exploiting those into his son’s head.

“Don’t bring more people into this then you have to,” the older man had told him. “You’ve already made enough of a fucking mess.”

Quincey sighed, figuring the endeavor was fruitless, but he wasn’t about to dirty himself by clawing apart couch cushions and drywall. He shoved aside dozens of photographs, cursing to himself, when a frayed corner caught his eye. It was at the bottom of the stack, the paper duller and more brittle than any of the others. Quincey slowly slid it free until a young woman stared back at him, her huge brown eyes scrunched as she smiled, a baby with the same eyes perched on her hip. Alarms whirred in Quincey’s brain as the recognition poured over him.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.


	45. Forty-Five

**_Oh, I wanna come near and give_ **

**_Every part of me_ **

**_But there's blood on my hands_ **

**_And my lips are unclean_ **

_Leon Bridges, River_

Forty-Five

Tora sat in his borrowed car outside the small country market, his fingers tense on the steering wheel. He needed a cigarette; he needed 10,000 cigarettes. He had mastered an air of unbothered confidence around Poppy – he was good at building facades. But deep down inside, in one of the fractured shards of his heart, he was terrified. _She’s right_ , he thought. _How can we bring a kid into this fuckin’ mess?_ And what did Tora know about parenting? He had no good examples, and now he knew that Poppy didn’t either.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he opened his door. Poppy had begged him to buy her pickles, already complaining about pregnancy cravings that Tora suspected were more in her head than her body. Maybe it made her feel normal; maybe it made all of _this_ feel normal, if only for a little while.

The store was as old and quaint as granny’s cottage, ancient shelves lined with the simplest of foods. White cans of condensed milk sat beside loaves of bread, no rhyme or reason to the stocking scheme. The shop owner, an old man with shockingly white hair, watched Tora carefully from behind the register. Poppy’s presence always softened the menace of Tora’s size, but when he went out into the world alone, he was quickly reminded that he was still a thug to everyone else. He found the glass jar of pickles quickly and placed them on the checkout counter, stopping short when he spotted the white packs of cigarettes behind the old man. Would Poppy notice if he had just one, or two, or 12? 

“Anything else?” the shopkeeper asked warily.

“Um…” The no smoking rule was as much for him as for Poppy and the baby, but he was so stressed, and so anxious…

DING!

The bell above the entrance sang as another warm body drifted in from the cold. Tora cut his eyes in the direction of the door, his protective instincts always with him. His whole body went still, the cigarettes forgotten as he met the level gaze of a man his size dressed head-to-toe in black. His coat was a heavy, expensive wool, his leather gloves creaking as he peeled them off. Tora glared in an obvious challenge, but the man seemed unimpressed, giving Tora a quick smirk before disappearing behind a row of shelves.

 _Clan member_ , Tora thought. _He has to be_. Tora’s gaze drifted out into the parking lot, towards the sleek black car parked beside his. His ears perked as he tracked the click of the man’s boots through the store, his hand inching towards the gun in his waistband. _Make it quick and clean_ , Tora told himself. _Don’t take out the old man._

“ _Anything else_?” the shopkeeper asked more sharply. Tora jumped, every muscle primed and ready. The man in the black drew nearer, his steps growing louder, until he was directly behind Tora. _Now!_ Tora screamed in his head. _Do it now!_ His fingers brushed the grip of his gun, aching for the trigger.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Green!” The shopkeeper’s demeanor changed as he called out to the stranger man.

“Melvin,” the doctor said, his voice warm. “How are the kids?”

Tora yanked his hand from his weapon as the two men talked over him, his thoughts racing as fast as his heart. They discussed family and the weather as Tora silently pulled money from his pocket and left, clenching the jar of pickles. He drove back to granny’s in a cold sweat, the snow outside his window a diamond blur. He needed Poppy; he needed to see her to know that she was OK, that he was OK.

“Pops!” Tora burst through the front door to an empty house. “POPS!” His brain lobbed terrible thoughts at him. _Maybe he_ was _a clan member! Maybe he had you fooled! Maybe the old man was in on it! Maybe Poppy and the baby are already dead!_

“Poppy!” Tora yelled as he raced through the rooms. “Goddammit, where are you?!”

“I’m right here!” Tora spun wildly to find Poppy standing bundled in the open door, her face white, a stack of firewood in her arms. Tora reached her in two long strides and wrenched the wood from her grip, throwing it to the floor before crushing her in a hug.

“Tora,” she said into his chest, pushing with all her might to make a small space between them. “You’re going to smother me to death!”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair. “I just needed to make sure you were alright.” 

“What? Why wouldn’t I be?” Poppy pressed her cold palm to Tora’s feverish cheek, lifting his face. “ _What happened_?”

“I almost killed a guy, Pops,” he choked. “I almost killed some fuckin’ country doctor because I thought he was a clan member. I thought they had found us. I thought they fuckin’ had you.” Poppy lovingly traced the hard angles of Tora’s jaw.

“Look at me,” she said. Tora’s eyes burned as if he were seeing her for the first time. “I’m fine. The baby is fine. You just…got scared.”

“I had my hand on my fuckin’ gun, Pops. I was ready to put a bullet in his head.”

They both fell silent, leaning into one another for support. Tora breathed in the reality of Poppy, living and whole in his arms, knowing that he would burn down the whole world to keep her safe. But he had grown paranoid, and he knew that she had, too. They were waiting for Quincey around every corner and after every breath; he was stealing their life together, even as their hearts kept beating.

“We can’t keep doin’ this, kid,” Tora whispered. “We can’t keep waitin’ for them to appear.” He felt Poppy nod against his chest.

“Then what do we do?” she asked softly. Tora pulled Poppy closer and this time she let him.

“I have no fuckin’ clue.”

* * *

Goliath was embarrassed to count the number of times he had anxiously checked his phone during the last few days, sometimes staring at it as if his will alone would light the screen. He had moved to a new safe house, this one a sleek and minimal apartment overlooking the city, but nothing about the lifestyle impressed him anymore. He just wanted to be Goliath again; to walk freely down the streets. But even if he could be brought back from the dead, he didn’t know if he would ever be the same, not after the things he had seen.

“Stop bein’ such a pussy,” he mumbled to himself as he flicked his screen on and then quickly darkened it again. He threw the phone across the apartment’s long leather couch and clutched his head, trying to squeeze away the pain. His heart rocketed up into his throat when he heard a familiar buzz, his eyes darting over the long white expanse of the cushions.

“Don’t do it,” he whispered. “It’s probably just that fucker Mac.” The phone vibrated again and he lunged for it, his mouth going dry when he saw the unfamiliar number.

_goliath?_

_sharon gave me ur number_

Goliath’s fingers twitched, part of him still trying to remain aloof. He had texted dozens of women, some messages so lewd that even the memory made him blush. But he knew that Rose wasn’t one of those other women, even if he couldn’t explain why or how. She made him feel like a teenager again: curious, hopeful, and excruciatingly horny.

“Fuck it,” he said as his thumbs clicked out a message. 

**Goliath**

_i’m surprised u used it_

**Rose**

_i’m sorry_

_about the other day_

**Goliath**

_u don’t have to apologize_

**Rose**

_yes i do so just let me_

**Goliath**

_ok_

**Rose**

_i don’t know why ur nice to me_

_men are only nice to me when they wanna fuck me and yeah i know u said u wanted to fuck me too_

_but u didn’t when u easily could of_

_so i guess ur just like this species of guy that ive never met before and i don’t really know what to do with u_

_but im sorry_

**Goliath**

_me too_

**Rose**

_u too what?_

**Goliath**

_im sorry too_

_i didn’t mean to make u uncomfortable_

_im just not good at this shit_

**Rose**

_me either_

**Goliath**

_so now what?_

**Rose**

_what do u mean?_

**Goliath**

_what do u want?_

**Rose**

_i just wanted to say sorry u jerk_

**Goliath**

_no_

_shit_

_thats not what i meant_

**Rose**

_oh_

**Goliath**

_i meant what do u need from me_

_tell me how to help and ill do it_

**Rose**

_take me on a date_

**Goliath**

_a date? seriously?_

**Rose**

_yes seriously_

_unless u don’t want to_

**Goliath**

_i want to!_

_i mean yeah ok_

_tell me when_

* * *

“You couldn’t have picked a more out of the way place,” Rose said as she stepped from the cab, her skirt pulling across her thigh.

“I’m s’pposed to be dead, remember?” Goliath answered, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. Rose wore a pink dress that floated to her knees, the top cut low beneath her fuzzy coat. It was the most clothing Goliath had ever seen her in and the sight made him weak.

“What?” she asked when she caught him starring. “Too much?” She tucked a dark lock behind her ear, her fingers trailing over her glittering earring.

“No,” Goliath said quietly, reverently, as he stepped closer to her. “Just right.” Rose blushed and met Goliath’s gaze before looking away. She craned her neck as she studied the blank entrance to the restaurant, her skin reddening down to her chest.

“Are ya sure this is the right place?” she teased, inching away before Goliath could grab her hand. She kicked at the gravel as she turned to survey the row of similarly nondescript buildings on either side. “Looks like a good spot to dump a body.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Goliath pried open the door and a glow bloomed from inside, punctuated by the distant ring of music. Rose peeked inside, her face souring when she saw a long staircase leading down towards the golden warmth.

“So ya _are_ tryin’ to kill me?” Goliath laughed but said nothing, waiting until Rose hesitantly stepped inside to let the door fall closed behind them. He stood just behind her, his breath hot against her neck.

“Trust me,” he whispered.

Rose nodded stiffly and let him lead her down into a dim, cavernous space full of candlelight and small, intimate tables tucked into alcoves. An expressionless man plucked at the keys of a Baby Grand in one corner, his reflection dancing off of the mirrored bar and the hundreds of glass bottles housed behind it. Couples and businessmen sat secretively hunched, paying no attention to Goliath and Rose as they moved past.

“Here you are,” a stiff hostess said as she sat them at a table far from the door, almost entirely hidden in a nook in the wall. She dropped two large menus onto the white tablecloth before sauntering away.

“What is this place?” Rose asked in wonder, circling her fingers around the rim of a wine glass, smiling as it sang its crystalline song. Goliath watched her with a smirk.

“It’s somewhere no one exists,” Goliath answered simply. Rose furrowed her brow.

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means no one asks questions. No one gives a shit if you’re on the run, or if you’ve got a nasty reputation.” Goliath paused and met Rose’s eyes. “No one here cares if you’re s’pposed to be dead.” Rose returned his smile.

“Mind your business and they’ll mind theirs,” she said.

“Exactly.” Rose pulled her coat tighter around herself as she tried to catch glimpses of the faces at other tables.

“So I’m not a hooker here, huh?” She had meant it as a joke, but her voice faltered, her paltry laugh dying on her tongue

“No,” Goliath answered. “You’re just Rose.” 


	46. Forty-Six

_**If life is but a dream,** _

_**Then wake me up** _

_Queens of the Stone Age, "Keep Your Eyes Peeled"_

Forty-Six

“I can’t believe ya’ve never been high. Some thug ya are.”

Rose’s skin was flushed from her third glass of wine, her eyes dewy in the candlelight as she teased Goliath.

“I can only have so many vices,” he answered with a smirk before taking a careful sip of his drink. There was a time when he would have been tanked by the main course, especially when his nerves were getting the better of him. But Goliath wanted to stay sharp and watchful, not only for the sake of his paranoia, but for the clarity of the moment. He wanted to remember every detail.

“Tell that to just about everyone on Ares Street,” Rose said. “I think they’d disagree with ya.” She rested her hand on the table and Goliath studied the slender curve of her bones, anxious to reach out and touch her as he committed the image to his memory.

“Goliath?” Rose had caught him staring, and not for the first time that night.

The two had fallen into an easy rhythm with their conversation, only ever stopping to order their food. Their dishes remained picked over but mostly untouched, each too absorbed in what the other had to say as they volleyed and joked. Goliath was sharp but Rose was sharper, with a wry smile and a lewd sense of humor that simultaneously told him everything and nothing about who she was. She liked to laugh and so Goliath had made it his mission to elicit as many giggles as possible. But he could see that she was still guarded underneath, the darkness peeking through her gauzy façade. 

“Ya keep watchin’ me like that and I’m gonna start gettin’ self-conscious.” This time Goliath didn’t meet Rose’s grin; he was intent on the purpose of his gaze.

“Ya look like a painting,” he said quietly, his eyes traveling over the white planes of her face, stopping only momentarily on the faded bruise on her cheek.

“A painting?” Rose repeated, her blush deepening. “Are ya sure you’re not high right now?”

“No, I mean it,” Goliath insisted. “Ya don’t look real. It’s like someone crawled into my mind and pulled ya out.” The room felt heavy and hot and Goliath wondered if he had been absently drinking more than he realized. His heart raced as Rose returned his look, both of them sitting silent and dumb.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he turned his head and broke the spell. “I didn’t mean to make ya uncomfortable.”

Rose bit her lip and leaned across the small table, clutching one of Goliath’s tattooed hands. His skin sizzled beneath her soft touch as she linked their fingers, pulling him forward in his chair until they were only a few inches apart.

“Goliath,” she whispered. “Where do ya come up with this shit?” They both laughed before growing serious again.

“I’m just tryin’ to say what I think,” he breathed as he tilted closer. “And I think you’re fuckin’ beautiful.” Rose smirked and drew Goliath’s hand to her chest, letting his knuckles drift over her collarbone and down to her breast.

“Wanna get outta here?” she asked with an arched brow. There was no transactional tone to the question, no sense of obligation. Rose had spoken in an earnest lust; she wanted Goliath as much as he wanted her.

“ _Rose_?”

An icy voice obliterated the quiet bubble, Rose’s body stiffening as her eyes widened in fear. Goliath frowned and tightened his grip on her hand before turning towards the intruder. A tall and elegant man stood before the table, his coiffed hair the same snowy white as his suit and shoes. The gold of his pocket square matched the rings on each of his fingers, his expression one of artificial charm.

“What are you doing here?” the man wondered as he appraised Rose. She continued to ignore him, her palm growing sweaty in Goliath’s grasp.

“Can I help you?” Goliath asked carefully, his hackles raised.

“Mind your business, boy,” the man said with a dismissive flick. Goliath’s jaw tensed with a click.

“She is my fuckin’ business,” he growled. The man looked at him for the first time.

“Is that so?” he asked. “Are you her new pimp?” Thunder boomed in Goliath’s head.

“Who the fuck…”

“You see, that can’t be,” the man interrupted. “Because she can only have one pimp. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” He reached to stroke Rose’s cheek and she jerked away. Goliath sprung to his feet in the same moment, his body a sudden barrier between the two.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch her,” he spat.

“I’ll touch what’s mine,” the man said simply. “Don’t get involved in this, boy. I don’t like blood on my hands.” Goliath’s knuckles shifted from red to white as Rose spoke behind him.

“I’m not yours, Silas.” She tried to sound confident but Goliath could hear the shudder of her fear. “You don’t own me anymore.”

“Oh but I do,” Silas answered almost cheerfully. “I own you for the rest of your fucking life.”

“Get the fuck away from us.” The menace and anger seeped through Goliath’s voice and Silas met his eyes, amber colliding with a lifeless blue.

“You know you’re not supposed to fall in love with a whore, right, boy? You’re only supposed to use her.” Goliath ground his teeth until he was sure they would crack. He wanted to leave a perfect impression of his fist in Silas’s smug face.

“I said get the fuck away from us,” he warned, his tone unrecognizable to even himself. “ _Now_.” Silas gave Goliath a lazy once over before calling over his shoulder to Rose.

“We’ll chat when your boyfriend isn’t around,” he said, “and I’ll be sure to tell your sister that you say hello.” He left Goliath with one last smirk before spinning on his heel and walking towards the stairs, a group of men clustering around him, some matching Goliath’s violent stare. Goliath waited until he was sure Silas had gone before turning to Rose, his hands instantly cupping her shaking face.

“Ya OK? Look at me, Rose.” He squatted and found Rose’s wet gaze, his thumbs trailing over her cheekbones. “Just breathe for a second.” Rose nodded and reached for her nearly forgotten water glass, chugging until Goliath stopped her.

“Miserable bastard,” she mumbled as she clung to Goliath’s arm. “I shoulda killed him when I had the chance.”

“Rose,” Goliath breathed, dumbfounded and dizzy. “Who the fuck was that?” She took a deep breath and let it out in a quavering sigh, her lip red as she chewed on it.

“That,” she started, “was my stepfather.” 


	47. Forty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of domestic abuse and underage prostitution/sexual assault

**_I am not the only traveler_ **

**_Who has not repaid his debt_ **

_Lord Huron, "The Night We Met"_

Forty-Seven

Goliath shook the panic from his head and shifted his eyes before Rose could read the alarm in them.

“We don’t need to talk about this here,” he said.

Rose sat hunched in her chair as Goliath quickly paid the bill and ushered her up the stairs, his hand pressed protectively against her back. He scowled at the few gawkers who had heard the argument, relieved that Rose was too lost in her own thoughts to notice. She let him steer her towards his car and sank into the passenger seat. Goliath had never seen her so lifeless, so vacant as she stared out the blurry window, her body pointed away from him. He wanted to make Silas bleed.

“Where do ya wanna go?” he asked softly.

“I don’t wanna be alone,” Rose answered without turning.

Goliath didn’t need to hear more. He drove them back to his apartment, his fingers tapping on the wheel to keep from reaching for Rose’s hand. He wanted to touch every inch of her if it would make her feel better, but he didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. The fear and doubt tied his tongue in a heavy knot, his mind whirling with all of the words he could have said but didn’t. He never thought helping someone could be so hard.

When they reached his apartment, Rose stood motionless in the entryway as Goliath flicked on a few lamps, his palms damp like a nervous teenager’s. He didn’t care about whether Rose was impressed with his lavish setup or the sweeping views of the city; he was nervous about how to talk to her. His shoulders relaxed when she broke the silence first.

“I could use a drink,” she murmured as she plopped down on the leather sofa.

“Wine?” Goliath wondered as he rummaged through the wet bar.

“Whiskey,” she corrected. “Neat. And lots of it.” Goliath gave a half-hearted chuckle before pouring her a glass from the best bottle he could find. The amber liquid sloshed when he handed her the drink, ice clinking in his own as he sat beside her.

“Do you…” Goliath trailed off before summoning another teaspoon of courage. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” Rose answered. “I wasn’t expectin’ this.”

“Is he the one that gave ya that black eye?” The question had slipped out before Goliath could catch it. He winced when Rose glared at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“I’m not mad at ya, Goliath,” she interrupted. “I’m mad at _him_. And I’m mad at myself.”

“Yourself?” Goliath scooted closer. “Ya didn’t do anything, Rose.”

“I’m mad at myself for lettin’ him get to me,” she growled, angry tears spilling down her cheeks. “He controlled me for so long, and I don’t want him to anymore.” Goliath didn’t stop himself from grabbing Rose’s hand this time, cradling it in his own as his thumb smoothed her delicate skin.

“That’s not your fault,” he said. “Whatever the fuck he did to ya is not your fault.”

“No?” she asked with an arched brow. “Well leavin’ my sister was my fault.”

“What do ya mean?” Rose gazed at Goliath for a long moment before she seemed to reach a decision within herself.

“I was 14 the first time Silas sold me to a man,” she started. “My mom was so happy to find some rich asshole to marry her that she didn’t care about how he made his money. She didn’t give a shit about the brothels and the little girls. She just wanted to be kept. She wanted to have nice things and lots of drugs, even if it meant lettin’ him beat on her sometimes.” Sweat rolled down Goliath’s back, his teeth digging into his tongue.

“So of course she didn’t give a shit when he started whorin’ me out. Whatever made them more money. And guys liked me because I was young – Silas said they would pay more for me, and even more for my sister. She was 12 her first time.”

“Jesus Christ,” Goliath breathed. He was no saint; he had grown up on the streets, painfully familiar with society’s underbelly. But Rose wasn’t another faceless woman in a seedy crowd; she was human to him, which meant that every other hooker had to be human, too.

“I tried to run away a few times,” Rose went on, her breath shaky. “But that bastard always found me and was always so fuckin’ happy to punish me. I think it turned him on. But I wasn’t gonna stop tryin’ to get away, and I figured out that I could last longer on my own if I moved around. No home, no connections. It worked really fuckin’ great for a while…”

“Until…?” Goliath couldn’t stifle his curiosity. He had to know everything about what Silas had done; he would need it for fuel when he slaughtered the man.

“Until he found me one night,” Rose said. “He smacked me around and told me he wasn’t gonna drag me back this time – he was gonna let me come back on my own. He told me all the heinous shit he was doin’ to my sister…” Rose’s last word broke into a sob and she collapsed into Goliath’s lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around her, tighter and tighter as if he could absorb her pain.

“I told her I’d come back for her,” Rose cried, “but I never did. I’m a piece of shit.” Goliath gently rocked her, his mouth pressed to her hair as he brushed strands from her face.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he promised to both the universe and Rose. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” she murmured between sniffs. “I can’t lose you, too.” Goliath could have argued, could have tried to explain the tornado of violence that swirled inside of him. But he let it go for the time being, knowing Rose didn’t have the energy to fight. She pulled away from him after several silent minutes, dabbing at her face in embarrassment.

“I’m a fuckin’ mess,” she said, recoiling in surprise when Goliath cupped her cheek.

“You’re not a fuckin’ mess,” he insisted. “Ya’ve just been through a lot of shit that ya didn’t deserve.” Rose’s eyes softened into a different kind of sadness, one that spoke of a deep longing. She stared at Goliath’s lips.

“I don’t think we should fuck tonight.” Goliath yanked his hand back as if he had been shocked.

“W-what?” he stammered. “No, no – I don’t think we should either. I wasn’t tryin’ to…”

“I know, Goliath,” Rose stopped him. “Calm down. I just thought I should say somethin’…because I wanted to sleep in bed with ya, if that’s OK, and I didn’t want ya to get the wrong idea. So is it OK?” Goliath nodded dumbly.

“Of course it’s OK,” he breathed. “Let me find ya somethin’ to sleep in.”

Rose disappeared into the bathroom a few minutes later, clutching one of Goliath’s oversized t-shirts. He knew that the shirt wouldn’t cover as much of her as he needed it to, not when his cock, even in the midst of his emotional turmoil, had made its excitement known at the prospect of sharing a bed. He peeled off his own shirt and quickly changed into a faded pair of joggers, growling a persistent “ _STOP IT_ ” to his uncooperative member. There was some small comfort in the great expanse of the king size bed, but Goliath wedged several pillows down the middle for good measure.

“Chastity pillows?” Rose asked as she emerged from the bathroom. “Really?” Goliath’s mouth went dry at the sight of her standing over the bed, the shirt barely covering her rear, her long legs extending forever beneath the black fabric. He subconsciously puffed out his bare chest, running his fingers through his blue hair before catching himself in the midst of his peacocking.

“Just in case,” he said. “I don’t want ya rollin’ over to my side in the middle of the night, hoggin’ all my space.” Rose rolled her eyes as she climbed under the creamy sheets, sighing at the softness.

“I don’t think I’ve ever slept in a bed like this.” Her voice was dreamy as she stared at the city lights reflected on the ceiling. “It’s like a fuckin’ cloud. Ya sleep like this every night?” She leaned on one arm and watched Goliath over his makeshift pillow wall.

“You can, too,” he insisted. “I mean, if ya wanted to. I don’t mind sharin’.” Rose smiled and Goliath forgot everything for a moment except for the two of them, floating in their own orbit. He could have stayed in that bed for the rest of his life.

“Thanks for stickin’ up for me tonight,” Rose said. “A guy’s never really done that for me.”

“No problem,” Goliath answered, laughing as Rose let out an enormous yawn. “You should get some sleep.”

“Mmkay,” she agreed in a mild daze as she sunk back down into the mattress. “Kill the light, would ya? And don’t try anything in the middle of the night. I’m a good Christian girl.”

Goliath snorted as he reached for the lamp on his nightstand, the moon glow growing as the artificial light died away. Goliath didn’t know if he would be able to sleep or if he would spend the whole night listening to Rose’s measured breathing.

“G’night, Goliath,” she said softly.

“G’night, Rose,” he returned.

Goliath drifted in and out of unsatisfying dozes, his dreams full of pearly white skin and dripping red blood, all of it shaking him to his frightened roots. He couldn’t help but check on Rose from time to time, her face easy and innocent as she went somewhere far away, somewhere he wanted to go, too. Near morning, exhaustion finally took him in its hold and he slept for a few paltry hours. He woke bleary-eyed to the lavender predawn skies, his heart thundering in his chest. Rose had managed to throw herself over the mountain of pillows and coiled her entire body around Goliath’s arm, his hand snuggled between her knees. Her sleeping lips were pressed to his naked shoulder, her lashes dark and heavy in her slumber. Goliath marveled at her for several long minutes before planting a small kiss on her forehead, his fingers stroking her leg as he drifted back into the darkness.


	48. Forty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to be better about adding to my playlist as I go, so here is the link in case anyone is interested:   
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2ddSrsNMpPULiQ23v3s9AZ?si=vwSRvlreTK62A231Ua4fzg
> 
> Some of the songs are covers, and not everything that I used as a lyrical excerpt has necessarily made it on here. I wanted to stick with a particular attitude and tone. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**_Graceless lady,_ **

**_You know who I am._ **

**_You know I can't let you_ **

**_Slide through my hands._ **

_The Rolling Stones, "Wild Horses"_

Forty-Eight

The skies were clouded over when Goliath woke again, a great grey shadow cast over the room. He twisted his stiff neck and found Rose watching him intently, her body still wrapped around his arm.

“I can’t believe ya didn’t try anything,” she teased. There was a delicious bleariness to her gaze, her face glowing with an intoxicated flush. 

“I guess I’m just a gentleman,” Goliath answered as he stretched, failing to ignore the press of Rose’s breasts. He tried to give her a playful smile, but his expression grew serious when he saw hers.

“You’re not a gentleman,” she said softly, her finger slowly tracing his jaw. “I don’t know what ya are.”

“What do ya want me to be?” Goliath whispered. He felt as if he had swallowed his tongue, his heart not the only thing that swelled towards Rose’s touch. The moment was fragile and holy and he was terrified of messing it up. He didn’t care that Rose was the first woman he had ever felt self-conscious around; he only cared about being close to her, her breath forever warming his skin.

“I don’t know who I want ya to be,” Rose said as she crawled higher up the pillows. “But I know what I want ya to do.”

“What’s that?” Goliath breathed.

“I want ya to kiss me.”

Goliath had to stop himself from crushing his mouth to Rose’s, from consuming all of her right then and there. He took her lips gently, his hands cradling her head, fireworks exploding between his ribs as if the experience were brand new. She answered him tenderly, her nails raking lightly over his chest, before her pucker became a gentle suck, one that Goliath felt down to his toes. His tongue darted out instinctively and Rose met it with her own, both of them throbbing and pulsing in time with the other. Their kisses became more urgent, more feverish, Rose draping one leg across Goliath’s torso as she gripped his hair. She gasped when he cupped her ass and his hands quickly darted away.

“Sorry,” he whispered between anxious breaths. Rose studied him for a long moment before unhooking her leg from his body. Goliath screamed at himself internally, sure that he had ruined the moment, but instead of rolling away, Rose shimmied in place, sliding her panties free and tossing them across the room. She wound herself around him again, her thighs spread wide.

Goliath could only stare dumbly as Rose found his palm and left a small peck on each fingertip before drawing his hand down to her clit, her face expectant. His brain sizzled as he stroked her in slow, aching circles, moving closer and closer to her tender nub. She was all softness and heat, more perfect than anything Goliath had ever touched, her eyes fluttering closed as she purred, her teeth sinking into his shoulder. She rolled her hips into the mattress and Goliath answered her silent request, his pace quickening into a frantic rub, back and forth over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Rose’s legs began to twitch, her gyrating growing more pronounced.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she choked as Goliath pulled her t-shirt higher, revealing the bouncing moons of her ass cheeks. He gripped one with his free hand as his other moved faster and faster, adding a lewd squelch to the soundtrack of Rose’s moans.

“Ya like that?” he breathed when their eyes met, Rose nodding insistently as her body quaked. Her expression was desperate and pleading, and Goliath thought he saw something like disbelief there.

“ _Yes_ ,” she whined. “ _Yesyesyes_. _Don’tstopdon’tstop_.”

“I’m not stoppin’,” Goliath promised as Rose’s humping shook the bed. “Come on, baby. Come for me, baby.”

She growled and hissed several choice words but he knew she was close when she went silent, her mouth hanging open as she pressed her forehead to his. Goliath added more pressure and pushed higher with his fingertips, sending Rose tumbling over the edge, her voice cracking as she released a primal scream. She shuddered and collapsed, yanking Goliath’s hand from between her legs before her pleasure turned to pain. She nuzzled Goliath’s sweaty neck as she caught her breath, his arms snaking around her. His cock roared when Rose crawled further on top of him, her dewy core wet against his stomach. 

“Ya OK?” he asked after a minute.

“I’m OK,” she answered weakly. “I just can’t remember the last time a guy made me come.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

The room was heavy with their collective silence, both acutely aware that they had crossed a threshold they couldn’t return from. A million questions raced through Goliath’s mind. _Was it too much? Was I too rough? Does she think I just wanna fuck her? Well I do, don’t I?_ He shifted uncomfortably, sure that Rose was aware of his erection. He wouldn’t ask her to reciprocate; he would let her make that decision on her own. He just hoped she would do something soon, the measured quiet clenching his heart and doing nothing to ease the pressure in his pants.

“Rose?” There was no answer and as Goliath listened to her breathing, he realized that she had fallen back into an easy sleep, her body like a cage around his. “Well fuck,” he muttered as he tried to think of sexless things. 


	49. Forty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone forgot, Gyu = Ronzo. I wanted to refer to him as Gyu for the most part since canon Gyu doesn't seem to like the nickname Ronzo.

**_Why should I care?_ **

**_Why should I try?_ **

**_I turned off the pain_ **

**_Like I turned off you all_ **

**_Now there's only me_ **

_Gary Numan, "M.E."_

Forty-Nine

It was fear that kept Gyu loyal; fear and nothing else.

_“That whorehouse isn’t bringing in the numbers anymore.”_

He felt weak and scared. Tora had always been his savior, his shield, and now he was gone.

_“Tell the whores to stop usin’ all the fuckin’ product.”_

And now here Gyu was, surrounded by Balthuman goons, marking himself as a traitor to one of his only friends.

_“Are you listening to me, boy?”_

“Huh? What? I’m sorry, sir.”

A table full of dark faces stared at Gyu, waiting for the answer to a question he hadn’t heard. Vincent Balthuman sat at the head, his hands folded and his eyes sharp. The man was diligent and precise, especially when it came to his two favorite subjects: violence, and money. He had started calling weekly meetings when his thugs returned from their collections with less and less, complaining of product quality and obstinate landlords. Broken fingers and bloodied noses could only do so much to quell the tide, and so the leader of the Balthuman Organization had taken the next logical step: form a committee comprised of money men, con artists, and one hacker extraordinaire.

“I said I need you to dig up some more dirt on that cop,” Vincent repeated. “Whatever keeps him off our backs.”

“Yes, sir,” Gyu answered as he typed.

Vincent had yet to ask him to do anything beyond surface level work, scraping records for misdemeanors that certain officers didn’t want getting out. The clan used the information to their advantage, forcing the police to turn a blind eye to their illegal doings. But Gyu knew it was only a matter of time before Vincent wanted the names and addresses of family members; of mothers and grandmothers, of children and spouses, and what would Gyu do then? Would he say no? _Could_ he say no?

“And anything more,” Vincent continued, “on our… _friends_?” Icy thorns prickled down Gyu’s back.

“Nothing, sir,” he said quickly, waiting for his boss to strike at him like a cobra. Instead Vincent only frowned before turning towards Smithy, their conversation devolving into numbers and dollar signs.

 _Our friends_. Tora and Poppy – that’s who he had meant by _our friends_. Gyu was grateful that he didn’t have to lie, that he truly hadn’t found anything about their whereabouts. As much as he needed Tora’s protection, he hoped that he and Poppy were somewhere far away, somewhere that no Balthuman would ever find. He wished he could go there, too, and that he could save himself from becoming another clan casualty. But there was no way out now that he was in; Vincent would never let him leave, not in this lifetime or the next.

“Father!” Every head swiveled towards the study door, where Quincey stood solid and defiant.

“Quincey?” Vincent asked as he stood. “What are you doing here? I thought you always found it tacky to discuss money.” A few of the men chuckled but Quincey remained unmoved.

“Who is this?” Quincey said through his teeth as he held up a worn photo. Gyu could just make out the image of a woman holding a baby.

“Quincey, what are…” Vincent stopped when he reached his son, the picture no longer blurry to his aging eyes. He studied it for a long moment, his fingers tapping against his thigh as if he ached to reach out and touch it. “Where did you get that?” he whispered.

“Who is this woman?” Quincey repeated, his tone growing darker. Gyu wanted to do more than just smack the insolence from Quincey’s voice; he wanted to extinguish every awful trace of the man he had become, especially after what he had done to Tora. His jaw ached whenever Quincey was around, Gyu having to force all of his rage and tension into one concentrated spot to keep himself sane.

“Do not speak to me that way, Quincey,” Vincent warned.

“ _Who the fuck is she_?!” The air left the room, the men around the table staring in dumb shock. “I’ve seen this woman in your old photos! You knew her! Why the fuck is there a picture of her in Poppy’s apartment?!”

 _Poppy_. The word reverberated through Gyu’s skull. He had never met Poppy, but he knew her through the horrors she had survived: the clan laughing over her torture and rape; Quincey’s obsession with finding her. And now there was something more – some new connection between Poppy and the Balthumans, as if they were doomed to be together forever.

“This was in Poppy’s possession?” Vincent’s eyes glossed over for a brief second before hardening again. “We will discuss this later, Quinceton,” he said carefully. Quincey shook his head.

“I wanna know now,” he demanded. Vincent calmly returned to his seat, his face placid.

“Well we don’t always get what we want, do we, Quincey? You should know that by now.” Gyu absorbed every detail, sensing that either father or son was about to be pushed over the edge towards something dangerous.

“Maybe I should ask mom,” Quincey offered hoarsely. “Maybe she’ll know.” Vincent’s head snapped up.

“Leave your mother out of this,” he said. “You know she’s emotional.”

“Then fucking tell me.”

Vincent looked around the room as he tried to retain his composure. His men couldn’t see him crumble at the hands of his son, and they certainly couldn’t see him show weakness over a woman. Indifference was the hallmark of a strong clan leader; it’s what separated the gods from the mortals.

“Lula. She was a whore at one of the clubs,” Vincent explained casually. “I used her for what she was good for and fired her when she got pregnant. No one wants to fuck some knocked up cow. Satisfied?”

“That could’ve been your kid,” Quincey breathed, his eyes wide. Gyu gave him the smallest bit of credit for still containing the capacity to be shocked at Vincent’s horrendous words. “That could’ve been Poppy.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Quincey,” Vincent said with a laugh, some of the men joining in. A weight dropped in Gyu’s stomach. “Do you know how many men a whore sees every day? I won’t take responsibility for her bastard child, especially one named _Poppy_.”

Quincey searched the empty faces until he found Gyu’s. There was a moment of recognition, of shared humanity drowning amongst the violent dregs. Gyu didn’t completely believe Vincent, and he could tell that Quincey didn’t either. And if that baby _was_ Poppy… Maybe Quincey was sorry; maybe he regretted his actions. Or maybe, Gyu thought as he hardened his heart, none of that mattered, because what was done was done. _Let him have his guilt_ , Gyu thought as his brain buzzed. _Let him choke on it._ Gyu tuned out the rest of the meeting, hardly noticing when Quincey left the room in a daze. He had only one focus now: he had to find Tora and Poppy.


	50. Fifty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lordt, how did I make it to 50 chapters? Thank you guys for your lovely comments, encouragement, and support! I love this community so much.

**_You know what I'd do for you,_ **

**_I know what you'd do for me_ **

_Russ, "Cherry Hill"_

Fifty

“Ugh!”

Goliath’s face crumpled as he sipped his cup of coffee, the taste bitter on his tongue. He was trying to do what normal people did when they were tired, especially when he had access to such a handsomely equipped kitchen. But the brew was too pungent to be worth it, and his desperate search for sugar had ended in defeat. He leaned against the counter and pouted, yearning for a Red Bull. His gaze drifted out the shiny windows, and then towards the bedroom where Rose still slept.

Rose. She had latched onto him for hours, his arms growing numb for fear of waking her. Something told him that she had never used another person in that way, seeking comfort and warmth over money and sex. And so he had held her through the tingling pain; through the aches in his limbs and the throbbing in his crotch that eventually subsided. It was only nature’s call that finally convinced him to slide out from under her gentle weight, and she looked too pristine and calm to disturb her when he returned. He had trailed a hand across her cheek before retreating to the kitchen, his body heavy with fatigue.

Goliath had gotten off lots of girls in his life, more than he could count. Their faces blended in his mind like a drunken blur. But he didn’t think he would ever forget the dizzy ecstasy in Rose’s eyes, nor the way she had cried out as he gave her pleasure – real, earth-shattering pleasure. He didn’t consider himself a giver in the bedroom, but after last night, he wanted to give more, to see that sparkle in Rose over and over again, to watch her burn like a star. He couldn’t even fathom what it would feel like for her to give to him in return.

“Coffee not your thing?” Rose’s voice shook Goliath from his stupor. She stood near the fridge, still dressed in nothing but his shirt and the panties she had retrieved from the floor. Goliath’s cock stirred in his sweatpants and he wondered why he hadn’t put on proper clothes.

“I don’t know how people drink this shit,” he said. Rose sauntered over and took the mug from his hand, pressing her hips to his as she took a swig. He laughed when she wrinkled her nose.

“Well no shit’s it awful,” Rose complained. “Ya didn’t add anything to it!”

“There’s nothin’ in this kitchen,” Goliath answered as he gingerly held her waist. “It’s just 8 million empty cabinets.” Rose chuckled and tried to straighten Goliath’s hair.

“Never heard of grocery shoppin?” she quietly teased. Her arms snaked around Goliath’s neck but she didn’t lean in, her face intent as she searched his.

“Is this…weird?” Goliath wondered.

“What do ya mean?”

“Is it weird that I’m holdin’ ya like this?” Rose shook her head. Her lips were slightly swollen, her skin cool against his.

“Why are ya so nervous around me?” she nearly whispered. “Ya weren’t like this when we met.”

“I wasn’t like this when we met because I was pissed at that asshole, Lev,” Goliath answered. “And I _was_ nervous. Ya made me nervous. Good nervous.”

“Yeah,” Rose agreed with a tiny smirk. “But not like this. Ya act like you’re gonna break me or somethin’.” Goliath sighed. He didn’t want to confront his feelings and why he did the things he did; he simply wanted to kiss Rose, to take her then and there on the kitchen counter until they both felt drunk.

“It was somethin’ Sharon said,” Goliath admitted.

“Sharon? From the brothel?”

“Yeah,” Goliath said sheepishly. “She told me that I should try askin’ ya for what ya need instead of thinkin’ I know what’s best. I don’t think I’ve _ever_ asked a woman what she needs. So I’m tryin’…but it’s hard.” Rose studied Goliath, her face shifting from concern to something like pride. She pressed her lips to his and his body relaxed into hers in relief, his hand cupping the back of her head.

“You’re doin’ fine,” Rose whispered. “You know I won’t be shy about tellin’ ya if ya fuck up.” Goliath laughed. He could tell that Rose didn’t want to dive deep either, but there was something he needed to ask for both their sakes.

“So do ya need my help,” he started, “with your sister?” Rose looked out the window and Goliath tightened his grip on her waist. He didn’t want her to walk away from the conversation, not when they were starting to chip away at each other’s layers.

“Yes,” she finally breathed. Goliath slowly nodded.

“Then I’ll help.” Rose’s face fell into the crook of his neck, her breath a warm thanks.

“Could we maybe finish up we started first?” She asked after a minute.

“What we started?” Goliath went breathless as Rose traced the bulge between his legs. “ _Oh_.”

“I didn’t get to return the favor,” she whispered close to his ear before biting the lobe.

“Ya did leave me with blue balls.” Goliath tried to sound casual and composed, but his voice came out strangled, his focus dwindling to Rose’s fingers as they hovered at his waistband.

“Let me make it up to ya.” Rose kissed Goliath hard and he answered her in kind, his tongue seeking hers without thought. Her hand dipped into his pants and he let out a desperate curse, his eyes rolling back in his head as she gripped his shaft.

“I knew there was a reason ya called yourself Goliath,” Rose teased as she stroked, her expression one of pleasant surprise.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Goliath breathed against Rose’s smiling lips. Nothing could break the spell of the moment; of her wrapped around him in more ways than one; of her softness and desire and the promise of her mouth…

BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ!

Goliath’s phone vibrated on the counter, as persistent as a fly.

BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ!

They would call back. Whoever the fuck they were, they would call back.

BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ!

But what if it was Poppy? Or Tora?

BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ!

Tora’s angry face appeared in Goliath’s mind and he tried to bat it away.

BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ!

“Fuck!” Goliath roared as he broke from Rose’s kiss, her hands stilling as he angrily answered the call. “What?! This better be fuckin’ good!” Goliath barely listened at first, his mind still transfixed on Rose’s touch. The person on the other end of the line was frantic, spewing a million words a minute that Goliath slowly pieced together, his face growing serious.

“Who is it?” Rose wondered. Goliath tried to reassure her with a gentle hand on her arm, but his eyes remained distant.

“You’re sure?” Goliath asked the person on the phone. He looked to Rose with anguish and regret. “And this can’t fuckin’ wait?” His jaw clenched when he got his answer, his heart cracking as Rose released him. “Fine. Gimme half an hour.” He ended the call and chucked the phone across the room before turning back to Rose, her face disappointed and concerned.

“Raincheck?” she asked.

“Raincheck,” Goliath said through his teeth. “We gotta go.”

* * *

Tora thought he heard the distant hooting of an owl but he couldn’t be sure. His senses were beginning to dull, his paranoia washing over every rational part of his brain. It was a moonless night, the stars cloaked in dark clouds, the heady scent of sap wafting through the house. Poppy slept soundly, her face calm and unbothered, while Tora sat in the old chair that had become his new home. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to crawl into bed beside Poppy and join her in a momentary escape. He just simply couldn’t, not tonight or not for the numerous nights before. He saw only blood and death whenever he closed his eyes, the violence of his mind serving as a frightening reminder that he had a family to protect. And so he had taken to guarding the door, his gun on his lap, his ears carefully perked, as a subtle madness slowly overtook him.

“Tora?” He jumped at the sound of his own name, spinning to find Poppy rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Come to bed.”

“Can’t sleep,” he mumbled. Poppy frowned and walked to his side, pulling his heavy head to her chest. He listened to the steadiness of her heartbeat, his shoulders relaxing as she played with his hair.

“You’ve been saying that all week. You have to be tired.” Tora sighed and wrapped his arms around Poppy.

“Of course I’m fuckin’ tired, Pops,” he said. “But what if someone…”

“What if someone what?” Poppy asked when Tora didn’t finish his sentence.

“What if someone finds us? What if someone tries to hurt ya, or the baby? I already fucked that up…”

“Stop it,” Poppy interrupted as she took Tora’s face in her hands. “I’m here, aren’t I? And you’re here, and the baby’s here, and we’re all fine.” Tora could tell that Poppy only half believed herself, and that she was trying to don a brave façade for the both of them. He hugged her in gratitude, focusing on the familiar scent of her skin.

“This place is drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” he said. “I’m startin’ to hear shit that isn’t there.”

“Me, too,” Poppy agreed. “I swear I can hear someone outside.”

Tora knew that she was joking but he listened for a long second before gently pushing her away, his senses suddenly buzzing. There was the same eerie country silence, but above that, the unmistakable crunch of gravel as a car slowly approached. Tora stood, his eyes fixed on the door as his arm swept Poppy back towards the bedroom.

“Hide,” he demanded. “ _Now_.”

“Tora…” Poppy breathed in fear as she heard the same sound.

“I said now, Pops.”

She went hesitantly, Tora waiting until he heard the click of the bathroom lock. He slid across the wall, silently cursing himself for all of the things he should have done before that moment. _Ya should have been better prepared,_ he told himself _. Ya knew this would happen, ya knew they would find ya._ He began to calculate his attack as the car’s engine died, several doors softly opening and closing. Multiple pairs of feet came nearer, grinding the earth beneath them, their steps hollow on the ancient wooden porch. Tora couldn’t feel the sweat on his skin, nor the racing of his heart. He could only feel his fear and his anger as they shrunk to a single focal point, his gun raised to his chest.

 _This is it_ , he thought. _This is the end_.


	51. Fifty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Brief mention of rape

**_In the night, in the darkness_ **

**_All becomes so still and quiet_ **

**_I can see you in the shadows_ **

**_I can feel you in my mind_ **

_Deradoorian, "Nia in the Dark"_

Fifty-One

Poppy pressed her ear to the bathroom door, anxious to hear anything over the wild drumming of her heart. She felt helpless; she didn’t want to leave Tora out there alone. But she knew she would only serve as a distraction – as something else for him to worry about. She looked around frantically, hoping to find a makeshift weapon. Could she shatter the mirror and wield one of the shards? The thought made her dizzy, her body recoiling from the memory of fragments of glass embedded in her skin. But if it came to that…

CRASH!

The whole house shook as an endless commotion erupted in the living room. Poppy could hear the thud of bodies, and two angry voices as they collided in the air. Something broke with a loud crack, another voice shrieking high above the others. And then there was silence, Poppy’s ears straining as sweat beaded on her lip.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Tora bellowed. “Are ya out of your fuckin’ mind?!” He sounded angry but unafraid. Someone else murmured words she couldn’t hear, the sound muted by her own panic. She twisted the doorknob, the click of the lock almost deafening.

“I almost fuckin’ killed ya!” Tora shouted.

“That’s ‘cause you’re a wild fuckin’ animal,” Goliath groaned.

_Goliath?_

Poppy wrenched the door open and dashed into the living room, stopping short as she saw Goliath crumpled on the floor, his head in his hands, a vase shattered behind him. Rose crouched beside him, rubbing his arm in comforting circles. Tora stood panting and indignant beside a man she didn’t know, his red hair licking at his pale skin like flames.

“Goliath?” Poppy said quietly. “Rose? What are you doing here?” Every face turned to look at her. Tora wore a ferocious frown.

“That’s a great fuckin’ question,” he agreed as he stared daggers at Goliath. “What _are_ ya doin’ here in the middle of the fuckin’ night?” 

“I’m afraid that’s on me, big bro,” the red-haired man answered. “There’s something I had to tell you and only Goliath knew where you were.”

“Ever heard of a fuckin’ phone?” Tora grumbled.

“They’ve been trackin’ me,” Goliath spat. “One ping and they’d find ya.” Tora looked back and forth between the two men.

“How the fuck do ya know that?” he asked. Poppy sensed the shift in his posture; she could feel his tension across the room.

“I did some diggin’,” the stranger answered. “The Balthumans have been followin’ Goliath for a few days.”

“Probably started trackin’ me when we went to that fuckin’ restaurant,” Goliath mumbled, Rose’s expression twisting.

“I’m sorry,” Tora said in mock confusion. “Did ya just say ya went out to a fuckin’ restaurant? When ya know Balthuman is lookin’ for ya?!”

“I thought it was safe,” Goliath argued.

“Well apparently it fuckin’ wasn’t!” Tora shot back.

“Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?!” Poppy yelled. Four sets of eyes gazed at her dumbly until the red-haired man stepped forward with a shy smile.

“I’m Gyu. You must be Poppy.”

“Nice to meet you, I think.” Poppy hesitantly shook his hand, trying to place him. He seemed oddly well-mannered and out of place beside Tora and Goliath. “I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you? And why are you in my grandma’s house in the middle of the night?”

“Don’t worry about me, Pops!” Goliath called from the floor. “Your giant boyfriend didn’t hurt me or anything.”

“Oh shutup,” Tora said before turning back to Gyu. “I’d like some answers, too. What the hell is goin’ on?”

“I, um…” Gyu trailed off, cowering beneath Tora’s glare.

“Spit it out,” Tora ordered. The words tumbled out of Gyu in a frantic yelp.

“It’s about Poppy’s father!” He shrank away in apology as Tora furrowed his brow and looked to Poppy, trying to read her face.

“My father?” she breathed. Tora slowly shook his head.

“What do ya mean it’s about Poppy’s father?” he asked, his tone tinged with disbelief. “What the fuck are ya talkin’ about?” Gyu said nothing for a long moment, eliciting a strangled sigh from Goliath as Rose helped him to his feet.

“Just tell ‘em already,” Goliath said.

“I’ve learned something about your father,” Gyu started, swallowing hard when he realized that no one was going to stop him. “Quincey found a photo of you and your mother in your apartment, and he must have recognized her. I mean, he must have recognized your mother, because he showed the photo to Mr. Balthuman…”

Poppy was trying to make sense of the pieces that Gyu laid before her. What photo? And when was Quincey in her apartment? And how did he recognize Poppy’s mother? She wanted to ask all these things and more, but her tongue felt thick in her mouth. Her fingers began to tingle as if they were asleep, matching the frequency of the ringing in her ears.

“Mr. Balthuman said he knew her,” Gyu continued. “He said she, um, she used to…work, at one of his clubs. And he fired her when she got pregnant.”

“Pregnant with me?” Poppy whispered. Gyu nodded, his face soft with regret as he went on.

“I didn’t think that was the whole story, so I did some searchin’. Your mom’s name was Lula, right? I never found anything about her workin’ at any of Balthuman’s clubs, but I did find a police report that she filed…about a rape. She told the cops she was raped. By Vincent Balthuman.”

Poppy’s eyes grew huge as she tried to process everything. She knew that there were other people in the room with her; she could feel them as they watched her. But her vision slowly narrowed, until the only thing she could see was Gyu’s mouth as it told her a story; a story she didn’t know, a story she didn’t want to hear.

“She dropped the charges,” Gyu said softly. “And about nine months later…you were born.”

“What the fuck are ya sayin’?” Poppy heard Tora ask.

“I’m sayin’ I think Vincent Balthuman is Poppy’s father.”

The world disappeared as Poppy was thrust into the rapid dark, her legs collapsing under her. She remembered reeling backwards, and the sound of Tora’s voice roaring her name, and then nothing but the void as it caught and cradled her.


	52. Fifty-Two

**_Destroy everything you touch today_ **

**_Destroy me this way_ **

**_Anything that may delay you_ **

**_Might just save you_ **

_Ladytron, "Destroy Everything You Touch"_

Fifty-Two

Poppy woke with cobwebs across her vision and static crackling in her head. She squeezed her eyes tight until she saw stars, a panic swelling in her throat as she tried to move her fingers and realized she couldn’t. She drew in a sharp breath and let it out in a mighty exhale, extinguishing her momentary paralysis. A warm hand gently cupped her face.

“Pops?” Tora’s voice cracked, reverberating in Poppy’s head like a dull bell. “For fuck’s sake, look at me, kid.” She lifted one eyelid and then the other. Tora was kneeling over her, his big body blotting out the living room lamps. His face was aching and broken.

“What happened?” Poppy murmured. She was flat on the floor, her feet propped on pillows. Ghostly figures wafted around her but she couldn’t tell who they were.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Tora choked as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Ya hear me?”

“What did I do?” The night was coming back to her in a brilliant rush, dousing her in a torrent of emotions. She felt fear and disbelief, and a deep-seated sadness above all else. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Jesus, don’t cry, Pops,” Tora said as he wiped at her wet face. “Ya didn’t do anything wrong. Ya just fainted.” She blinked at the word. Fainted. Tora. Goliath. Rose. Gyu. Vincent Balthuman.

Poppy shot straight up, nearly colliding with Tora. The room twirled around her like a merry-go-round and she clutched her head, trying to push away the clouds in her brain. She swayed and Tora caught her, cradling her in his arms.

“Easy, kid. You’re gonna knock yourself out again.”

“I’m OK,” Poppy mumbled as she pressed herself to him. She wasn’t OK; she didn’t know what she was. She scanned the room and saw Goliath and Rose sitting on the sofa, their knees touching. Gyu stood near the door, teetering anxiously as if he was about to bolt.

“You,” Poppy said, her tone determined. Gyu flinched and pressed a finger to his chest.

“Me?” he whimpered.

“Yes, you,” she repeated. “I want some answers.”

“Pops, we don’t need to talk about this now,” Tora started. Poppy shrugged him away and shakily climbed to her feet, Tora behind her like a safety net. She ignored his ferocious glare.

“Yes we do,” she argued. “He can’t just come here and tell me that my father is… _that man_ , and then expect to leave.”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to leave,” Gyu protested meekly, his hands up in the air.

“Poppy, this stress isn’t good for ya.” Tora clung to her elbow, trying to lead her towards the bedroom.

“Or the baby,” Goliath chimed in. The room went silent and still, Gyu’s eyes widening as he gawked at Poppy’s belly.

“Poppy,” Rose said quietly, “are ya pregnant, sweetheart?” Poppy looked at each inquisitive face, feeling suddenly guilty for the being that grew inside her. Her anger was gone; there was nothing left but fear and exhaustion.

“Yes,” she answered. Rose shook her head.

“Have ya been to a doctor, honey?” she wondered. “Are ya takin’ vitamins? Ya look tired…” Poppy craned her neck helplessly in Tora’s direction. His jaw was clenched tight, his gaze heavily guarded.

“We’ve kinda been focused on other shit,” Tora admitted begrudgingly and Poppy’s worry intensified. He was so worldly and strong, but when it came to raising a child, he was as clueless as Poppy. Rose nodded slowly.

“It’s OK, sweetheart,” she said. “I’ll help ya out. This stuff kind of comes with the profession.” Goliath arched an eyebrow at Rose and she rolled her eyes. “ _Not me_. Just girls I work with.” He seemed appeased, but Poppy couldn’t join him in his comfort.

“What if we messed the baby up?” Poppy clutched her stomach as she turned to Tora. “What if we already ruined it?”

“Poppy…”

“Should we not have had sex? Does that hurt it?”

“Poppy…”

“And I haven’t been eating because I haven’t been hungry, but of course the baby needs food, too…”

“Poppy!” She stopped mid-sentence as Tora grasped her arms and stooped to meet her eyes. “Just calm down, OK? We can talk about this in the mornin’.”

“Um, big bro,” Gyu squeaked. Tora growled in his direction. “It’s probably not a good idea that we hang out here ‘til mornin’. Cover of darkness and all that kind of stuff.” Poppy spun towards him.

“You can’t leave until you tell me what you know!” she shouted before her voice fell to a whisper. “Am I…really a Balthuman?” Gyu rubbed the back of his neck.

“The evidence would suggest so,” he answered apologetically. “Hospital records say Vincent Balthuman visited your mother after you were born. Just once. And then their paths part from there.” Poppy stared at the floor as she pieced together the fragments. 

“Does he…know about me?” She could feel Tora’s whole body tighten behind her. “Does he know who I am?” Gyu’s eyes darted to Tora before returning to Poppy.

“He does now,” he said. “I think your mom somehow managed to keep your identity a secret, but when Quincey found that photo…” Poppy felt the world tilt again.

“Are you saying he wanted me to be part of his family?” she asked. Tora’s voice boomed over her head.

“That’s enough,” he ordered.

“No, I want to know more,” Poppy protested with a frown. “Tell me more, Gyu.”

“No,” Tora growled. Poppy had only ever heard him speak that way when he was threatening their enemies – when he was trying to keep her safe. “I said that’s enough.”

“Why won’t you let him tell me more?” she asked. She placed a soft hand on Tora’s arm but he didn’t budge.

“I said that’s enough,” he repeated. The sharp angles of his body stood out in stark relief when he was truly upset. His rage turned him to a statue, one that couldn’t be destroyed by time or force; he could only be obliterated by one small woman.

“You know something,” Poppy said in sudden realization. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me! I deserve to know! I just learned that this baby is half you and half fucking Balthuman!” Poppy could hear Tora grinding his teeth.

“Don’t fuckin’ say that,” he warned.

“Why?!” Poppy shouted back. “It’s the truth! Are you going to stop loving me now that you know I’m one of them?! Is that the big secret?!” Tora cracked like lightning. 

“GODDAMIT, POPPY, I’M TRYIN’ TO KEEP YA SAFE!” he roared. Poppy took a step back as if his words possessed a physical force. He was panting, his fists clenched at his sides, his golden eyes now a dark and dangerous amber. “Balthuman is _obsessed_ with his bloodline! If ya thought he wanted to get his hands on ya before, just fuckin’ wait! And when he finds out about the baby, that it’s half my blood and half his…” Tora stopped and the room gathered its collective breath. 

“What?” Poppy whispered. “What will he do?” The last of Tora’s stony façade crumbled away.

“He won’t stop until that baby is his,” he said weakly. “And he’ll do the same thing he did to me: he’ll try to turn that kid into the perfect weapon.”


	53. Fifty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all you cool cats and kittens! I apologize for the unintentional hiatus! Quarantine is...weird, and I've probably been sleeping more than any person needs to. Thanks for your patience! 
> 
> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all of the Goliath fans for putting up with all of my blue-ballin' of him when he's just trying to be the best boi. 
> 
> TW: Mentions of rape and abortion

_**I ain't hanging up this time** _

**_I ain't giving up tonight_ **

**_Even if you walk around_ **

**_As though you think you're right_ **

**_At your worst I still believe_ **

**_It's worth the fight_ **

_Angel Olsen, "Shut Up Kiss Me"_

Fifty-Three

Lula.

The name was still sweet on Vincent Balthuman’s tongue, even after all these years. It was weighty and soft; delicious to say as he sat in the dark of his study, speaking to the memories in the air.

Lula.

He had thought it was impossible to have children after Quincey. He pegged himself as an old man, washed up and infertile, sleeping with every whore at every brothel because that’s what bosses did: they sampled the goods. But he had lied to Quincey – Lula hadn’t been a whore. She was an assistant for his many shell companies, keeping them inconspicuous and organized. She was kind and naïve, but she wasn’t above doing a little money laundering, not when Vincent paid her so well.

Lula.

Her chocolate eyes, her pale skin, her pink rosebud of a mouth. Why hadn’t he noticed that same beauty in Poppy? Why hadn’t he recognized it? He had been too distracted by Quincey’s rash stupidity, by his love of flashy things and romantic vengeance. But now that Vincent knew the truth, he couldn’t shake it from his mind: Poppy, the spitting image of her mother, the only thing that was left of her.

Lula.

She’d been polite at first, rejecting his advances like a good country girl. But there was a fire in her, one Vincent loved to stoke, one he couldn’t resist, even when she said no a thousand times. Even when she begged him to stop.

Lula.

There’d been no other men in her life, Vincent was sure of that. And as he drove to the hospital on that rainy night, he knew that it couldn’t be a coincidence that Lula had given birth nine months after he had taken her. He knew that child was his.

Lula.

His blood, his family, his right.

Lula.

A daughter, willful and strong like her mother.

Lula.

A daughter, cunning and wise like her father.

Lula.

Lula.

Lula.

Poppy.

* * *

Dead leaves crunched and swished as Goliath and Rose trudged through a copse of trees, the morning golden and misty. The night had been long, the two of them stuck in a cabin with Tora, Poppy, and Gyu, trying to hammer out the details of what felt like a lifetime’s worth of decisions in a matter of hours. Gyu had cursed when he noticed the sun coming up, lamenting the loss of his cover of darkness.

“Balthuman’s gonna slit my throat if he finds out I was here,” he’d said with his head in his hands.

“I never wanted to get ya involved in any of this, Ronzo,” Tora had answered quietly.

“It’s a little late for that now, big bro.” The two had smiled at each other weakly.

Goliath didn’t know where he and Rose fit into all of this – _if_ they fit into all of this, or if they were merely caught in the crossfire. Goliath would never admit it, but Tora letting him back into his life had lifted something in Goliath, something heavy and decaying that he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying until it was gone. He wanted the familiar, the comfortable, the safe; he wanted home. He thought he’d lost all that when he turned Tora over to the cops, and now he knew it wasn’t true. Tora had turned to him in a time of need, and he had vowed to help him.

But no one could fight Balthuman head-on, not even someone as strong and connected as Tora. Quincey and Vincent wouldn’t rest until they had Poppy, until they had the baby, and what could Goliath possibly do but watch it happen?

“I can’t believe she’s pregnant,” Rose muttered from beside him. She was ethereal in the early light, her nose red from the cold. “Poor kid.”

“Aren’t babies supposed to be a good thing?” he asked as they ventured deeper into the trees. The house had been stifling and tense and they both needed to clear their heads.

“And what about this situation is _good_?” Rose wondered. “I told her she should get rid of it.” Goliath snorted in disbelief.

“Like Tora would ever let that happen,” he said, his breath a frosty cloud.

“It’s not up to him,” she answered with a glare. “It’s up to her.”

“Well we’re not talkin’ about a brothel where the women don’t even know who the baby daddies are.” Rose stopped, her eyes wide as she gawked at him.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she spat. Goliath sighed, his body slumping in exhaustion.

“Shit, Rose. I didn’t mean it like that.” They gazed at each other for a long minute, the air around them eerily still.

“Those choices are hard for those girls, too, Goliath,” Rose finally said. “They love their kids, too, whether they keep ‘em or not.” Goliath ran his hands through his hair. He hadn’t meant to get into an ideological debate – he’d simply wanted to go for a walk, to do something normal and unguarded.

“I know, Rose,” he murmured as he shifted, hoping a lopsided grin would appease her. “And I’m glad you’re here, because the rest of us know fuck-all about havin’ a kid.” Rose gave him one last exaggerated eye-roll before trekking onward.

“You’re not off the hook,” she called over her shoulder. “I just don’t have the fuckin’ energy to fight right now.” Goliath jogged after her, the earth crisp beneath his feet.

“So that’s what ya talked about?” he asked. “Gettin’ rid of it?” In the midst of the plotting and planning last night, Rose had pulled Poppy aside to have a quiet and intense conversation, Tora watching them like a grumpy hawk.

“What is she tellin’ her?” Tora had asked, his brow furrowed.

“Fuck if I know,” Goliath had answered truthfully. He hadn’t lied when he said he didn’t know the first thing about having kids, so he couldn’t even begin to guess what the conversation between the two girls had entailed.

“It started out like that,” Rose said, her breathing shallow. The trees were growing larger and more tightly clustered, hovering over them like sentinels. “But she’s a feisty little thing, and she shot that idea down pretty quick. She’s still got fairytales in her head, still wants to have the perfect little family. I guess it’s kinda sweet how in love she is. So I gave her some pointers.”

“Pointers?” Goliath repeated.

“Yeah, pointers. She needs to go to a doctor ASAP, and she needs to start takin’ care of herself. Healthy food, lots of vitamins. She can’t be eatin’ like that boyfriend of hers.” Goliath smiled to himself as he thought of how much Tora ate in a day, most of it processed garbage. He never understood how he got so ripped on strawberry juice and packaged ramen.

“There’s no way they’re gonna find a doctor around here,” he said as he pushed a thick branch aside for Rose. They found themselves in a small hollow in the trees, the sky clear overhead. Rose craned her neck and spun in small circles, her eyes closing as she inhaled the fresh air.

“This would almost be romantic if it weren’t fuckin’ freezin’,” Goliath said as he watched her. The cold made her pale skin even more brilliant, her cheeks flushed a radiant pink. She looked like some beautiful creature of the forest; like a nymph come to lure him into a dream. She opened her eyes and found Goliath staring, a familiar spark glinting beneath her lashes.

“Maybe I can warm ya up.” Rose reached Goliath before he could protest, her hand dropping to cup him through his jeans.

“Here?” he choked. “Now?” He didn’t understand how Rose had the energy or mindset for sex, but his body was already responding to her touch, his brain turning towards the potential wicked power of her mouth.

“I think we could both use a distraction,” she whispered in his ear. Her tone was seductive, but he could hear the pleading underneath. She wanted something recognizable, something good; she wanted something with him.

Goliath reached for Rose’s face, his thumbs running over her icy skin. He kissed her softly, her tongue a warm surprise amidst the cold. They searched and teased and nibbled, warming themselves by the other’s fire. Rose tugged at Goliath’s belt and the metallic clang was almost deafening in the quiet space, intensifying the erotic power of the moment. Their kisses deepened, hungry and feverish, Rose biting Goliath’s lip as she pulled his cock from his pants. He hissed when the air hit him, certain he must be steaming. He started to complain, started to question the sanity of the whole situation, when Rose fell to her knees and took him into her mouth in one fluid motion.

“ _Holy fuck_ ,” he breathed, his head falling back.

She moved her tongue in an experienced dance, finding every sensitive spot on his cock, twirling around the underside and flickering across the veins. She licked his balls, sucking lightly, and Goliath felt a ferocious tingle spread down his length, a small, moist bead forming on the head. Rose kissed it away with a smile.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, big boy,” she teased. He coughed out a feeble grin, suddenly self-conscious. Goliath was confident, maybe sometimes too confident, but Rose had seen lots of men in her lifetime. Sweat formed on his forehead as the doubt bloomed in his brain.

“Rose,” he started, hooking a finger under her chin. He didn’t know how to ask his question. He had never needed validation from a woman. “Do ya…I mean, is my…is it what ya were expectin’?” Rose smiled again, her eyes soft and warm.

“Are ya askin’ me if I like your cock, Goliath?” He nodded once and she arched a brow. “Does this answer your question?”

Rose quickly swallowed all of him, enveloping every inch until his head tickled the back of her throat. Goliath groaned loudly, his thoughts lost to the void as her lips brushed his balls. She stayed there for a long minute, pressing deeper, before pulling back out with a gasp, spit trailing behind her. She met Goliath’s eyes as she did the same thing again, only this time she began to bob. Goliath’s hips pulsed instinctively and Rose stopped moving, letting him decide the pace as he slowly drove into her, the sound lewd and wet.

“Jesus Christ, Rose,” Goliath said, his hands trailing through her hair. “I’m gonna come soon.” She backed off, letting his cock pop free of her mouth. Her eyelids were heavy, her lips glossy from pleasuring him.

“Fuck me, Goliath,” she nearly whispered, the words vibrating through his chest. “Please.” Goliath could tell that Rose didn’t ask for sex like this; she didn’t let herself be seen as vulnerable and wanting. It was something she kept only for him. He leaned down to give her a long, probing kiss, drawing her to her feet as they stumbled towards a tree. Rose moaned when Goliath pressed her against the bark.

“This OK?” he asked, his forehead against hers.

“Mmmhmm,” she answered as she guided his hand beneath her waistband, pushing him towards her wet cunt. Goliath cursed the cold and all of the layers between them; he cursed the fact that he couldn’t feel more of her skin, vowing to rectify it the next time, and the next, and the next.

“Fuck, Rose,” he breathed. “I want ya so much. I wanted ya from the beginning.” Rose smirked and playfully lapped at his lips as he undid the zipper on her pants.

“I know ya did,” she teased. Goliath laughed and ground the heel of his palm into her clit, her face shifting into delicious shock.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she panted against his mouth.

“That’s it,” he purred. “Don’t forget who you’re messin’ with, sweetheart.”

“Let’s hope your cock is as magic as your fingers,” she answered. Goliath grinned and hooked his fingers through her belt loops, pulling her pants down with a vicious yank. He peeled them from her legs, taking her boots with them, so that she was left in only her sweater and long coat. She was open and exposed, her skin delicate and petal pink as it burned in the frigid air.

“Please,” Rose whimpered, something shifting in her demeanor. Her body quivered with anticipation and the cold. “ _Please_.” Goliath ran the head of his cock up and down her slick seam, his brain whirring somewhere between terror and relief. She was as soft as silk, her mouth open in a silent plea. He leaned in to kiss her, one hand snaking around to cup her ass.

“Is this what ya want?” he whispered as he squeezed. Rose nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, as close as he could get. Goliath couldn’t wait anymore; he couldn’t be separated from her for another second.

He drove up into Rose and she let out a strangled cry, one of surrender, one of completion. Everything stopped. There was no forest, no country, no cabin, no clan. There were only the two of them, staring dumbly at one another as if seeing each other for the first time. There was no word for the warmth that surrounded Goliath, for the way Rose clenched around him, tight and sweet. And he knew that she was feeling that same level of confusion and joy; of having spent a lifetime having sex, and now finally getting to make love.

Goliath drew out and slowly slid back in, savoring the small changes in Rose’s face. Her breath caught when he hit a certain spot, a contented smile spreading across her cheeks, and so he did the same thing again and again, her body shaking with each gentle pound. She nuzzled into his neck as his pace quickened, the thrusts becoming short, rapid bursts. Rose dug her nails into his shoulders and bit his earlobe, her voice wavering as she spoke.

“More. _Please_.” The request pained Goliath as much as it emboldened him. He lifted Rose off the ground and pinned her harder to the tree, her legs wrapping around him. He hammered into her, their skin smacking together, as he willed himself to last, to let her reach her peak first. But she burned like a fever, her cunt the best thing he had ever known, and his balls began to ache for release.

“Don’t stop,” Rose begged and Goliath held on, grinding his teeth as he gave her what she wanted. She still clung to him desperately, her face buried against the throbbing pulse in his neck. Tiny mews and cries escaped her mouth and she started to tremble, tightening around his cock.

“ _Yesyesyes_!” she squeaked before throwing her head back and releasing a series of ecstatic screams into the air. Goliath pulled out in a grateful and dizzy blur and reached to finish himself, but Rose got there first, her hand stroking him madly as they locked eyes. He shuddered when he came, his cum hot and white over the fallen leaves.

Goliath set Rose on her feet and pulled her to his chest, the forest and the cold slowly coming back to him. Rose’s breathing became even and light, her arms folded close to her as she burrowed deeper into his coat, his hands struggling to warm her skin. He tried to dip to retrieve her pants but she snatched at his shirt, drawing him back towards her.

“Not yet,” she said quietly. “Just hold me a little longer.”

“Rose, you’re gonna freeze,” Goliath protested.

“I don’t care,” she answered. “Just one more minute. No one ever holds me after.”

Goliath’s heart ached as he tried to wrap all of himself, everything he had, around Rose. He kissed her head and looked towards the sky, hoping that he would be the only man who would ever be part of her “after” again.


	54. Fifty-Four

**_Sun comes up and goes back down_ **

**_And fallin' feels like flyin' 'til you hit the ground_ **

**_Say the word and I'll be there for you_ **

**_Baby, I will be your parachute_ **

_Chris Stapleton, "Parachute"_

Fifty-Four

“Where the fuck have you two been?” Tora sneered when Goliath and Rose stomped back into the cabin, their cheeks red as apples. They shared a quick look before Goliath spoke.

“We needed some fresh air,” he said, avoiding Tora’s glare. “That OK with ya?” Tora watched the two of them standing meek as children. His shoulders slumped with a sigh and he thumped Goliath hard on the back.

“Ya never could keep it in your pants for long,” he said before joining Gyu on the couch. Goliath turned to Rose, bracing for her shock, but she simply rolled her eyes.

“Where’s Poppy?” she asked.

“She’s sleepin’,” Tora answered tersely. “She doesn’t need all this shit right now.” He met Rose’s gaze and tried to soften his expression, remembering what Poppy had told him about being nicer. “None of us do.” Rose nodded and left it at that. Gyu cleared his throat to break the subtle tension.

“So, like I was sayin’,” he started, “I think I can get it done in five days.”

“Five days?!” Tora spun towards him with a wild scowl.

“Yes,” Gyu squeaked. “Five days.”

“We could be dead by then!”

“Well findin’ someone who will fly two fugitives like you out of the country isn’t gonna be easy!” Gyu protested even as his voice shook. “And it’s gonna be even harder if Goliath and Rose go, too.”

“We’re not goin’,” Goliath interjected. “I told ya that.”

“Don’t be stupid, Goliath,” Tora argued. “They’ll fuckin’ kill ya if ya stay.” Goliath looked to Rose, who stood with her arms crossed, her face worried and dark.

“We’ve got business here first,” he answered softly.

“Business?” Tora repeated. “Business that’s worth your fuckin’ life?” Something passed between Goliath and Rose then, some unspoken signal that Tora recognized well, even if he couldn’t decipher it. Goliath leaned forward in his chair, his eyes serious and still.

“I made a promise,” he said. Tora glanced at Rose, at the look of quiet desperation on her face, and he remembered that same look on Poppy. He was suddenly anxious to have them all out of the house.

“Fair enough,” he answered. “But when that’s done…” Tora didn’t need to finish the rest. He and Goliath had known each other since they were boys, and so their silences spoke as loud as their words. Gyu huffed and threw up his hands.

“Great!” he cried. “Now I gotta figure out _two_ flights!”

* * *

Tora watched the car roll away, trying not to think about everything that was going with it. He would wait the five long days it took for Gyu to find someone brave enough and dumb enough to help a Balthuman enemy like him and Poppy, but the waiting would drag into what felt like years. He knew the game well, knew that he could survive it, but Poppy was a different story. He thought about lying to her, about making up some excuse as to why Balthuman wouldn’t intensify his search, but she would see right through him. She always did.

Tora crept into the cabin’s darkened bedroom and found Poppy curled on top of the quilt, her hands wrapped around her belly. He gingerly crawled onto the mattress and drew her to his chest, her face nuzzling into his neck.

“Is everyone gone?” she whispered. Tora buried his lips in her hair.

“Yeah,” he answered. “And about fuckin’ time, too.” Poppy said nothing and the silence pulled taut between them. Tora tightened his grip, afraid she might float away without him there.

“Say it,” he breathed. “I know there’s somethin’ on your mind.” The words tumbled out of her in a rapid jumble.

“What if I’m like them?”

“What?”

“What if I’m…evil? Like Quincey or…”

“Stop it,” Tora said as he dipped his head, finding her eyes in the dark. “You’re not them.” His mind flashed towards a savage memory; towards a cage and a battle and the blood that the Balthumans made him spill, over and over again. He shook the thoughts away, grounding himself in Poppy’s tired gaze.

“You don’t know that,” she murmured.

“Yes I fuckin’ do,” he answered through clenched teeth. “Do you think I’m evil?” Poppy balked and shook her head fiercely.

“Of course not. Why would you ask that?”

“Well Vincent raised me,” Tora said slowly. “So he’s the closest thing I had to a father. And ya said yourself that I’m good, despite all of that. Right?” Poppy searched his face and Tora could see her stubbornness subsiding. She couldn’t argue with her own logic.

“You are good,” she answered, cupping his cheek. He placed his large hand over hers.

“And so are you,” he replied. “Besides, ya don’t even know if it’s true.”

“But you said he’ll stop at nothing to find us,” Poppy argued, her voice falling to a frightened hush. “You said he’ll try to turn the baby into...” Tora asked himself if he could lie, if he could convince Poppy that she would be safe so long as she was with him. That’s why he had yelled; that’s why he had tried to shield her with his anger. But there was a difference between his efforts and the truth, and as she stared at him, he realized that he owed her the facts.

“It doesn’t matter to him if it’s true or not,” he said. “Not once his mind is made up. Nothin’ gets in Vincent Balthuman’s way.” Poppy nodded at the gravity in Tora’s words and pushed herself closer to him, clinging to his shirt. They laid curled around each other in silence, each knowing that the other was still wide awake.

“Isn’t it funny,” Poppy started after a few minutes, “that all this started because I was afraid of losing my job?”

“Why is that funny, kid?” Tora asked, his hand pushing up under her shirt to caress the delicate skin of her back.

“Well, I’d say I’ve _definitely_ lost my job at this point,” she answered with a snort. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Are ya sayin’ this was all for nothin?” Tora teased. Poppy poked him in the ribs.

“Absolutely not.” She grabbed Tora’s hand and trailed it from her back to her stomach, letting it rest on the firm little hill that had sprouted there. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it, sure as stone beneath his palm.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. He lay there dumbfounded, for the first time truly comprehending the possibility of a baby. Poppy smiled and kissed him lightly.

“We need to go to a doctor,” she said as she pressed her forehead to his. “Rose said as soon as possible.” Tora nodded in a daze.

“I’ll find one,” he said.

“What about the ones Goliath knows?” Poppy wondered. Tora’s brow furrowed as he scowled.

“I’m not lettin’ a clan doctor near ya.” His tone was firm as he thought of their bloody hands so close to Poppy and their child. 

“Then who?” she asked. “It’s not like the countryside is swarming with doctors.” Her words dislodged a recent memory in Tora’s brain and a small smirk played across his features.

“I might know someone.”


	55. Fifty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, guys. You continue to amaze me with your readership and support. I love you all so much, and I'm hoping I will be able to post more consistently now that my semester is over! 
> 
> Also, a big thank you to my doctorly beta reader for ensuring I didn't make any more huge medical blunders in my writing!

_**Love, love is the warmest color** _

_alt-J, "Nara"_

Fifty-Five

Tora spun listlessly in his chair, draping one leg over the other before letting both fall back down again, his feet endlessly tapping. He stood and paced the room, touching every shiny surface, his fingers dwarfing a plastic skull as he scooped it off the counter. The jawbone clattered to the floor and Poppy turned towards him with a small scowl.

“Would you sit down?” she begged. “You’re making me more nervous!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he absently carried the skull back to his seat. He tossed it between his hands like a baseball. “I hate these fuckin’ places.” Doctor’s offices, hospitals, clinics – they were all the same. Cold, silver, sterile; places where you went when you were in pain, places that replaced one hurt with another.

“Me, too,” Poppy said, her paper gown crinkling as she leaned back on the exam table, her eyes counting the ceiling tiles in a daze. “They always tried to trick you when you were little by giving you candy, but it never worked for me. I’d still cry all the way home.”

“Candy?” Tora repeated.

“Yeah,” she answered, shifting to look at him. “Didn’t your doctor ever give you a lollipop after a shot? Or a sticker?” Tora stared at her blankly, trying to understand what sort of fantastical world she grew up in. Her face softened when she realized her mistake.

“I only ever saw clan doctors until I was a teenager,” Tora said quietly. “Fuck, I got in so much trouble the first time I went to a hospital on my own…” He bit his lip to stop the story, Poppy watching him carefully. They gazed at each other for a long moment, separate but apart, until she reached out a hand and he took it instinctively.

“Our kid is going to have lots of lollipops,” Poppy whispered. “And a doctor with rainbows and clouds painted on the walls of their office.” Tora snorted.

“That sounds fuckin’ awful.”

“OK. How about dragons?”

“Better,” he said with a smirk.

The door swung open and a tall man strode into the florescent room, his face scrunched as he studied a clipboard. Tora jumped to his feet and instinctively wedged himself between the stranger and Poppy, despite knowing who the man was. It had taken a considerable amount of charm – and regrettably, zero force – to pry Dr. Green’s information from the local shopkeeper’s lips, but the mention of a baby, despite all of Tora’s internal warning signs, had been enough to win the old man over.

“Alright, Mr. and Mrs…” the doctor stopped when he met Tora’s wary eye, recognition passing between the two. _Thank fuck I didn’t kill ya_ , Tora thought as he forced a smile.

“Yeke,” Poppy finished for the doctor, trying to shove Tora back towards his chair.

“Right,” Dr. Green said after a moment. “Mr. and Mrs. Yeke. Looks like congratulations are in order for our first baby?”

“That’s right,” Poppy beamed nervously. Tora hovered behind her, his arms crossed as he watched the doctor plop down on a stool.

“And the nurse already drew some blood?” Dr. Green asked. He snapped on powdery white gloves and began to draw two long metal arms from the exam table. Tora thought the whole situation felt like medieval torture from beginning to end, his heart racing when he remembered the nurse’s needle digging into Poppy’s skin. He had seen Poppy soldier unimaginable pain, had seen her walk through Hell and back, but it never got any easier.

“She did,” Poppy answered. “But…I already know that I’m pregnant.” The doctor gave her a warm smile.

“Of course. But it’s always good to confirm, plus your labs can tell us other important information, especially since the two of you didn’t provide us with any of your families’ medical history.” Poppy glanced at Tora, whose frown deepened. He knew nothing of where he came from, of who had made him, and Poppy was much the same, only going off of the small fragments she remembered about her mother and grandmother. It was a sore spot in the appointment; a puncture mark of aching truth.

“My mom was an alcoholic,” Poppy said softly. “And my grandma had arthritis. Does that help to know?” The doctor’s eyes darted between the two of them, his posture stiff.

“I suppose it can,” he answered slowly. “I’ll add it to your chart.” Dr. Green hastily jotted something down, his brow furrowed as he wrote.

“Also, my friend said I should be taking vitamins,” Poppy went on, her anxiety suddenly spilling out of her. “And how much weight should I be gaining? I wasn’t really hungry at first, but now I find that I could eat twice what I usually do, but is it OK for me to gain a lot of weight for one small baby? And…”

“Mrs. Yeke,” the doctor interrupted. “I promise I’ll answer all of your questions. Why don’t we just get through the exam first?”

“OK,” Poppy nodded meekly, her lips pressed tight.

“Now just scoot your butt to the edge of the table here,” Dr. Green said as he patted the leather surface. “And I’m going to have you put your legs up in the stirrups.” Tora’s eyes bulged in his head.

“Whoa, what the fuck!” he roared, knowing full well that Poppy was naked under her flimsy gown.

“Tora!” she shouted, clinging to one of his sleeves as he took an aggressive step towards the doctor. “This is part of the exam!”

“Him face-first in your crotch is part of the exam?!” Tora cried. “Why can’t one of the nurses do this?!”

“Because he’s the doctor!” Poppy’s cheeks burned scarlet as she threw Dr. Green an apologetic glance. He sat speechless and frozen, clearly unnerved at the sight of Tora rearing towards him.

“It’s a standard Pap smear, Mr. Yeke,” he murmured. “To ensure that she’s healthy.” Tora growled low in his throat, his eyes narrowing as he took stock of the cowering man before him.

“Maybe you should wait outside,” Poppy said, her voice dipped low in warning. She was glaring a ferocious hole through Tora’s skull.

“No fuckin’ way,” he scoffed at the suggestion.

“Then _be nice_.” Tora sent her one final frown before taking hold of her small hand. Her palms were sweaty and he silently cursed himself for adding to her stress.

“Just make it quick,” he said to the doctor. “And don’t try anything funny.” Poppy sighed and slid towards the edge of the table, Tora’s grip tightening on her hand as she lifted and spread both legs. She hissed at the feel of the cold metal stirrups, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard.

“Is this…is this going to hurt?” she asked faintly. Tora winced at her question. He had been so consumed with his own nerves that he hadn’t stopped to consider just exactly what Poppy might be feeling – and what the doctor might have to do to her.

“Just a little pressure,” Dr. Green answered. “I’ll try to be quick.” Tora felt queasy watching the doctor handle various metal implements, his stomach filled with a combination of anxiety and rage. He focused his attention on Poppy, hunching low over her to brush stray hairs from her face.

“Ya OK?” he whispered.

“Yep,” she said with a fractured smile, but her face crinkled as the doctor worked, gems of sweat rolling down her forehead.

“So I’m guessin’ it’s not like sex?” Tora asked lightly. Poppy forced out a small laugh and squeezed his hand tighter, her cheeks flushing a dark red.

“Nope. Definitely not like sex. Especially because I really want it to be over.” Tora chuckled, heartened by her boldness and bravery, his rigid shoulders slumping in relief as Dr. Green rolled his stool from the table and peeled off his gloves.

“Alright Mrs. Wilkes, you can sit up now.”

Time stopped and the edges of Tora’s vision blurred, his heart seizing as a wild humming built in his ears, like water boiling, like hornets buzzing in the near distance. He unfurled his body slowly, his eyes narrowed as he gauged the doctor’s each minute move, watching him write notes and tidy supplies. Poppy remained unbothered as she righted herself, until Tora took one large step forward, using the same motion to push her back towards the opposite end of the table.

“Get in the corner, Poppy,” he breathed.

“Tora,” she started as she climbed down, her focus shifting between him and the oblivious doctor. “What are you…”

“ _Now_ ,” he ordered, infusing the word with a deadly seriousness, one he knew Poppy would understand. Dr. Green finished with his notes and finally lifted his head, his face falling when he found Tora looming over him. Poppy cowered in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“Is everything alright?” the doctor wondered. Tora had him by the collar in one blurred second, a pitiful gasp of air escaping the doctor’s lungs as he was twisted and rammed face-first into the nearest wall. Tora wrenched the doctor’s arm behind his back, tightening his hold as he breathed down the man’s neck.

“ _Who the fuck are ya workin’ for?”_ Tora rasped, pressing the doctor harder when he didn’t immediately answer. “Who?!”

“I don’t know what…what you’re talking about,” Dr. Green sobbed, tears inching down his cheeks.

“Bull-fuckin’-shit!” Tora roared, yanking the doctor’s head back and smashing it into the wall again.

“Tora!” Poppy cried from across the room. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“He called you by your real name,” Tora said over his shoulder. “He called you Mrs. Wilkes.” Poppy fell silent, the only sound in the room the gentle weeping of the doctor.

“Please,” Dr. Green begged. “Please, I have a family.”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about your family,” Tora hissed in the doctor’s ear. “Tell me who the fuck ya work for. Right fuckin’ now.”

“Balthuman,” the doctor mumbled through his pitiful sniffles. Tora shook his head, sure that he had heard wrong.

“What did ya just say?” he whispered.

“Balthuman,” Dr. Green croaked, nearly choking on the word. “He’s got everyone in the country looking for you.”


	56. Fifty-Six

**_You can't start a fire_ **

**_Worryin' about your little world fallin' apart_ **

**_This gun's for hire_ **

**_Even if we're just dancin' in the dark_ **

_Bruce Springsteen, "Dancing in the Dark"_

Fifty-Six

“Tora, let him go!”

Poppy stood shaking but resolute, her papery gown sticking to her sweaty skin. Tora sent her a wild scowl.

“Are ya out of your fuckin’ mind?!” he bellowed. “He could have fuckin’ killed ya!”

“And are you out of yours?!” Poppy answered in kind. “If you keep shouting like that, a nurse is going to barge in here any second!” Tora stilled, some of the frenetic energy seeping out of him, but he didn’t ease his hold on Dr. Green. He took several calming breaths, but his fists were still white with rage, his whole body humming on its own electrical current.

“Please,” the doctor whimpered. “Please, I would never hurt anyone.”

“Shutup,” Tora growled. Poppy frowned and took a bold step forward. Hadn’t she just been the one spread bare on the table? Hadn’t she just been the one penetrated and probed? And wasn’t she the one carrying a life inside of her, one that terrified and excited her? She wouldn’t tolerate Tora’s caveman tendencies – not today.

“I said let him go.” Her voice was quiet and final, her gaze unwavering as she dipped her head. Tora gritted his teeth and released the doctor’s arm before quickly patting him down for weapons. He gave the man a ferocious shove when he found none and planted himself firmly in front of the door, his arms crossed as he frowned.

“Did ya tip them off?” Tora asked. “Do they know we’re here?” Dr. Green nursed his arm, his eyes darting back and forth between the two anxious faces before him. “Speak!”

“No, no!” he cowered. “I swear I’m not one of them. It’s just…”

“ _Just what?”_ Tora hissed, his patience withering. Poppy studied him, knowing that he could never quite pull himself free of the enforcer role once he was inside of it. Still, she had to do something before he snapped the doctor in two. She stepped towards Tora gingerly and placed one small hand on his arm, watching as he flinched and blinked dumbly down at her. His eyes softened a fraction at her worried expression. 

“Vincent Balthuman has every doctor in the country on the lookout for you two,” Dr. Green said quietly, as if he, too, was suddenly calmed by Poppy’s presence. “Every doctor, every hospital, every clinic. His goons are everywhere, threatening our families if we don’t cooperate.” Poppy’s heart swelled and dropped at the words.

“And what does he want from you?” she asked softly. Dr. Green cringed at the question.

“Information,” he answered simply. “Anything he can get his hands on. He figured one of you would need a doctor at some point…” He trailed off, his shoulders hunched as he pushed himself against the far wall.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Tora mumbled to himself.

“What do you mean?” Poppy wondered, a chill dancing up her spine. She numbly remembered that she was standing in little more than a napkin, goosebumps sprouting on her exposed flesh. Tora opened his mouth to answer but the doctor interrupted.

“Please,” he whined again. “Please don’t hurt me. I promise I won’t tell a soul that you were here.”

“And how the fuck are we s’pposed to believe that?” Tora asked sharply. “How the fuck are we s’pposed to believe any of this?” The doctor shook his head, new tears mingling with the old.

“I’m an honest man!” he cried, clutching his hands together in a desperate prayer. “An honest, God-fearing man. I would never lie about this!”

“Bullshit!” Tora spat back. “Ya lied about knowin’ who we were!” He lunged towards the doctor, who squealed and recoiled in fear.

“Tora!” Poppy shouted as she tore at his shirt. “Stop it!” He spun on her in a fervor.

“He’s gonna call Balthuman the second we leave here, Pops! He’s gonna get us fuckin’ killed!”

“So what are you going to do?” she asked from behind her own rage. “Are you going to murder an innocent bystander?!”

“I’m gonna do what I have to do to keep my family safe!” The room nearly shook with Tora’s roar before falling eerily silent, the only sound the gentle weeping of the doctor. Poppy stood with her eyes firm and her chin out, staring down the man she loved. She knew he wasn’t a bad man, but she also knew that fear made people do unimaginable things.

“Tora,” she whispered through her teeth. “If you spill innocent blood for me and this baby…I will never, _never_ forgive you. Do you understand me?” Tora’s face darkened, his posture shifting as he battled himself and the tiny force of nature before him.

“This is a fuckin’ mistake, kid,” he whispered back. “This is fuckin’ insanity. We can’t just leave him here, not with everything he knows.” Poppy’s eyes darted towards the doctor, a dull bulb flickering to life in her head.

“Then we don’t leave him,” she said. “We take him with us.”

* * *

“Sorry again for the inconvenience, Dr. Green.”

“Stop apologizin’ to the hostage, Pops.”

“He’s not a hostage!”

“No? Then what is he?”

“A guest? And besides, we’ll be gone in a few days…”

“Poppylan!” Tora snapped as he drove down the long country road, his eyes constantly drifting to the rearview mirror. Dr. Green sat huddled in the backseat, his face tired and grey. It had been hard enough to sneak him out the backdoor of his office, but what were they supposed to do with him now? Cook him dinner? Build him a cozy fort by the fire? Tora regretted letting Poppy call the shots on this one.

“He should probably call his family,” she said, her body turned in the passenger seat to look at both Tora and the doctor. “He can’t just disappear without an explanation.” She smiled weakly at Dr. Green and he smiled back before meeting Tora’s doubtful reflection. As much as he didn’t trust the doctor, Tora had to admit that Poppy was right: the man couldn’t just vanish, not for his family’s sake, and certainly not when Balthuman was waiting for any sort of red flag.

“Start thinkin’ of a good excuse, doc,” Tora mumbled as he headed towards the country store, knowing a payphone would be their safest option.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Dr. Green stammered.

“Say you had to help a patient out of town?” Poppy offered. “An emergency, maybe?” The doctor nodded reluctantly as he twisted his fingers in his lap. He had seemed so capable in his office, but now he was reduced to a simpering schoolboy. He gazed at Poppy for a long moment before he spoke again.

“You remind me of my daughter,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting. “She’s too sweet for her own good. Always tries to see the best in people – even in the people who are monsters.” His eyes shot to Tora.

“Don’t call him that,” Poppy warned through a frown.

“I don’t give a fuck, Pops,” Tora said, but he could tell that the doctor had already struck a nerve.

“Well I do,” she answered. “You’re not a monster.”

“I’ve seen girls like you before,” Dr. Green went on. “Pretty, smart, _kind_ girls who have their whole lives ruined by thugs…”

“Stop it,” Poppy interrupted.

“Who have dreams and hopes that they never see come true because they get knocked up by a low-life…”

“That’s enough!” Tora bellowed, his voice filling the car. “Say another word and I’ll cut your fuckin’ tongue out.” He waited for either the doctor or Poppy to protest, but both shrank back into their seats, the doctor in fear, and Poppy lost in something else, something like a quiet daze. She crossed her arms and watched the trees fly by the window, Tora suddenly aching to reach out and touch her.

“Pops,” he started.

“Let’s just do what we need to do,” she said quietly. “I’m tired.”

 _I’m tired_. The words reverberated through Tora’s mind as he drove. He knew she was tired; tired in her bones and tired in her soul; tired of running and tired of hiding. And he knew she was tired of defending him, of having to prove to everyone else that he wasn’t the beast they saw on the surface. But the doctor was right: Tora _had_ ruined her life, had uprooted her from everything she knew and loved and had gotten her hurt in the process. He glanced sideways to find her resting her head against the window, her eyes shut as her hand clutched her stomach. Kidnapping and threats had always been part of Tora’s daily life, but he had never intended for them to become a part of hers.

“We’re here,” he announced as the car rolled into the store’s empty parking lot. The silver pay phone glittered in the afternoon sun. “Don’t fuckin’ move,” he said to the doctor as he slipped from his own door and popped open the back one, dragging the man out with one arm. The shopkeeper’s curious face appeared in the store’s front window.

“Don’t be too rough,” Poppy called, and Tora marveled at how she could still spare any compassion for the man.

“I’ll play nice so long as he does,” he answered before pushing Dr. Green towards the phone, breathing commands down his neck. “No funny business, no screamin’ for help. Try anything and I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

“I told you I’m not one of them,” the doctor grumbled. “I don’t want anything to do with you and your clan war. I’m just a doctor!”

“I don’t care if you’re a fuckin’ priest,” Tora said as he fished loose coins from his pocket. “Ya do anything to hurt my family and you’re fuckin’ dead.” Dr. Green squared his shoulders and met Tora’s eyes, his fear momentarily forgotten.

“You really are a thug,” he muttered. “If you love that girl, the best thing you can do is get out of her life.” Every muscle in Tora’s body tensed, his jaw tight with anger as he tried to control himself. _Don’t do it_ , his brain screamed. _Don’t fuckin’ do it_. He clenched and then unclenched his fists before ramming coins into the pay slot.

“Make your fuckin’ call,” he hissed.

* * *

The doctor snored softly as he slept on the cabin’s couch, his hands and feet bound by decaying strands of rope Tora had found in the cellar. Tora couldn’t understand the man; how he oscillated between fear and courage, helplessness and comfort. Maybe everyone else shifted that easily, too, and Tora was simply forever stuck in hypervigilance and rage. Maybe despite everything that Poppy had tried to convince him of, he really was a monster after all.

“Are you OK?” Poppy asked from the bedroom. Tora turned to find her standing bleary-eyed in her pajamas.

“Are you?” he wondered back.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, the bags heavy under her eyes. “Come to bed?”

“I’m not sleepin’ with this guy in the house.”

“Then leave the door open?” Poppy offered almost shyly. “You don’t have to sleep. Just come lay with me for a little while.” Tora sighed and threw one last glare towards the doctor before following Poppy to bed. He kicked off his shoes and crawled over the mattress towards where she lay, grasping her hip to pull her flush with his body. She came to him easily, settling into his empty spaces.

“Is it true?” Tora whispered. “Did I ruin your life?” Poppy was silent for longer than he would have liked, his heart straining as he waited for an answer.

“You didn’t ruin it,” she finally said. “You just changed it.”

“Big fuckin’ difference,” Tora snorted. “Now we can add kidnappin’ to your rap sheet. Ya should have just let me kill him. It’s what I’m good at.” Poppy pulled away to look him in the eye, her expression serious.

“We’re going to have a baby, Tora,” she started. “Do you know what that means? We’re going to be responsible for a life other than our own, and every decision we make is going to affect that life. If you keep thinking you’re the bad guy, then you’re always going to act like the bad guy. I don’t want the bad guy for our baby – I want _you_.” Thin rivers of tears streamed down Poppy’s cheeks and Tora felt the telltale prick of his own.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I’m just fuckin’ scared. I’ve…I’ve never loved anyone this much and I don’t know what to do about it. I think about somethin’ happenin’ to ya and it makes me sick, makes my heart hurt. It’s like I’m choking, like someone cut off my oxygen.” Poppy’s hand cupped his face, her thumb tracing his bones.

“I know you want to protect me,” she said. “Protect _us_. But you have to let me protect you, too, and that means that we have to be careful.”

“I _am_ bein’ careful,” Tora pouted.

“Killing Dr. Green is not being careful.” Poppy looked down her nose at him until he gave in with a single nod.

“At least we don’t have to deal with him for much longer,” Tora mumbled. “Gyu’s got the flight set up for tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night?” Poppy repeated, one brow arched. “When did you talk to Gyu?”

“At the payphone,” he answered as he avoided her gaze. “Figured it was the safest place to call him.” Poppy nestled back into Tora’s chest and he breathed in her scent, committing it to the furthest corners of his memory, back where he would always be able to find it.

“We didn’t even figure anything out with the baby,” Poppy said through a yawn. “We’ll have to find a doctor as soon as we get to our new home.” Tora’s stomach dropped at the way she said _home_ , at how natural the word sounded on her tongue. 

“Don’t worry about it right now,” he whispered against her hair. “You’ll be safe soon.”

“ _We’ll_ be safe soon,” she corrected him, her voice straying further towards sleep. He crushed her closer to him, as close as they could get before melding into one. His hands traced the familiar curve of her hip, trailing up her back and dipping down again to gently squeeze her rear. He snaked his hand under her shirt and tried to absorb the soft heat of her skin, as if he could absorb her entirely; as if she could live in his ribcage, trapped but safe.

“I love you, Poppy,” he said into the night.

“I love you, Tora,” she answered before finally drifting off.


	57. Fifty-Seven

**_You're one microscopic cog_ **

**_In his catastrophic plan_ **

**_Designed and directed by_ **

**_His red right hand_ **

_Nick Cave, "Red Right Hand"_

Fifty-Seven

Goliath didn’t think of himself as the commitment type. He didn’t want to hitch his wagon to any single home, single clan, single woman. The only thing that had ever seemed consistent in his life was his signature blue hair, and even that was a promise that faded from time to time. But as he lay curled in his big bed, watching Rose sleep, he wondered if maybe it wasn’t that he was scared of commitment – he just simply hadn’t found the right cause to be committed to.

Rose stirred, a muffled sigh escaping her lips, and Goliath inched closer, savoring the gentle heat of her small, naked frame. His hand dipped under the sheets, his knuckles brushing against her stomach as he watched her face for a reaction. He had made her come a thousand times already, but he was anxious to make her come a thousand times more. She unfurled herself slowly, flattening onto her back, but her eyes remained closed, a delicious line furrowing between them. Goliath’s hand seared an aching path down between her legs, his middle finger coming to rest on her clit. Still she didn’t rouse.

 _You’re gonna make me work for it_ , Goliath thought with a smile before crawling under the blankets. The snowy fabric tented around his head as he spread Rose’s thighs, inhaling the scent of her and peppering her skin with tiny kisses. He nipped at her inner thigh and heard her sharp intake of breath from up above, her hips thrusting up in supplication. He chuckled, pleased with the response, and began teasing her clit again, his finger swirling in unknown shapes. Rose let out a tiny mewl, but it wasn’t enough; Goliath wanted to hear her pleasure, to know that she was enjoying herself. He gently smacked her tender flesh with his palm and her knees shot up in surprise and delight. He laughed again and pulled her back towards his mouth, letting her feel his hot breath as it hovered just above her.

“Please,” she whimpered. Goliath threw the sheets off his head and found her wide-eyed and flushed, her lip caught between her teeth as she looked at him.

“Please what?” he whispered before placing another small kiss on her thigh.

“Eat it,” she begged, her fingers lacing through his hair.

His cock throbbed at the request and he obliged, parting her labia with two fingers to find her glistening and swollen. His tongue came down on her quickly and she let out a strangled cry, her hips rising to meet him as he licked her thoroughly, over and over, the flat of his tongue covering every inch. He caught her clit between his lips and sucked hard, drawing in the skin around it, two fingers finding her entrance and easily sliding into the sopping channel. He pumped vigorously, his head bobbing as he guided her towards ecstasy.

“Fuck,” was all Rose could manage to get out, her free hand pinching one firm nipple. “ _Fuckfuckfuck_.” Goliath hummed, sending vibrations into her pussy, and her legs started their slow quake, his mouth finding her sweetest spot and staying there. He added another finger and Rose became wanton, trying desperately to slam her cunt down on his thrusting digits.

“Just like that,” she breathed. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

Goliath held on through the tightness in his jaw and hand, drinking in her nectar like a man lost and starving. He reached his other hand down towards her ass, a finger pushing tentatively into her hole there, and she came undone, screaming and shuddering. Despite the discomfort, despite the almost overbearing heat, Goliath thought he could have stayed there forever, his body pushing hers further towards her bliss. But Rose reached blindly for his head, trying to pry him from her clit.

“Too much,” she panted. “It’s too much.” She lay in a daze as Goliath freed his fingers and licked them clean, kissing her wet mound before crawling back up the bed. Her lips were anxious for his, her tongue exploring his mouth as she tasted herself.

“So you’re awake now, huh?” he teased. Rose bit his shoulder playfully, one hand sinking low to grasp his cock.

“Looks like you are, too,” she answered with a smirk. Goliath dropped his head to kiss her again when a vibration erupted from the bedside table.

“Ya’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he growled, his forehead momentarily resting on Rose’s.

“Ignore it,” she pleaded.

“Ya know I can’t, sweetheart,” he said before rolling away in frustration, a pout glued to Rose’s face.

“I’m gonna chuck that thing out the fuckin’ window,” she mumbled. Goliath sent her an apologetic smile before flipping open the burner.

“I swear to God, Gyu, ya have the worst fuckin’ timin’.” Goliath’s face shifted as he listened, the tension easing into concern. He felt Rose move closer, her ear hovering near the receiver as she tried to listen in.

“What’s goin’ on?” she mouthed, but Goliath silenced her with one patient finger. He let Gyu ramble on the other end of the line, trying to absorb his frantic words as they blurred into one unending sentence. Gyu was breathless when he finally stopped.

“Ya sure about this?” Goliath asked hesitantly, partially in disbelief of what Gyu was telling him. His eyes darted to Rose. “This is what he wants to do?”

He let the single word answer settle into his bones, into his stomach, into his mind that had become an endless clang of alarm bells and whistles. He looked to Rose again, who perched on her knees, her milky skin still red and pink from his adoration. Her gaze was troubled as she waited; it was as if she could smell danger from a mile away. Goliath had the same instinct, he thought, and danger was what Gyu was suggesting. But he wasn’t going to say no to a fight, not when there was finally something so important on the line. He squared his shoulders, his voice unwavering as he spoke.

“I’m in.”

* * *

Paperwork. Fucking paperwork. Even in the midst of having nearly everything he wanted, in running a goddamn empire, Vincent Balthuman marveled at the fact that there was always paperwork. He sat at his desk sipping his 4th Scotch of the night, the lines and numbers on the pages in front of him starting to bleed into useless shapes. _The road to Hell isn’t paved with good intentions_ , he thought. _It’s paved with fucking paperwork_.

A tentative knock came at the door. Ordinarily, Vincent didn’t like to be interrupted, but at the moment, he welcomed the distraction. Quincey could have come in on a unicycle and he would have been pleased as punch – anything to get him away from this bureaucratic nonsense. He called brusquely to the person behind the door and the head of one of his men poked through, his face apologetic.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but there’s someone here to see you.” Vincent frowned. He did all of his business, clean or otherwise, out of his home, and so it wasn’t odd to have clients show up. What was odd was having clients show up at 11 at night.

“Now?” he hissed. “Who the fuck is here to see me this late?” The guard flinched.

“He won’t tell us much,” the man answered. “Only that his name is Silas.”

Silas. Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose and began searching the room for his bottle of aspirin. Silas was a slimy pimp with lofty aspirations, most of them far outside of his capabilities. He was irritating, arrogant, and much to Vincent’s chagrin, in charge of quite a number of profitable brothels in Vincent’s neck of the woods, ones that Vincent hadn’t snatched out from under him simply out of familial loyalty. Their fathers had been friends, and as far as Vincent was concerned, that was the only thing keeping Silas on his good side.

“Bring the bastard in,” he grumbled. He dryly swallowed four aspirin as he waited, his rings tapping impatiently against his glass. Silas had a lot of balls coming to Vincent at all, let alone at this time of the night. He hoped this meeting wouldn’t have to end in blood; it was always such a hassle to clean.

Silas sauntered in a few minutes later with a wide smile, his white suit as pristine as ever, and Vincent wondered how such a filthy man kept such clean clothes. They exchanged a firm handshake, Vincent being sure to assert his dominance through his grip and intimidating stature, and motioned for Silas to sit in one of the leather chairs opposite his desk. Vincent remained standing, casually leaning against a side table to tell Silas that this was in no way an official meeting.

“How’s Quincey?” Silas wondered. “As handsome as his father?” Vincent’s patience slipped.

“Why don’t we just skip ahead to why the fuck you’re here in the middle of the night.” Silas’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before widening back into an amiable warmth. He crossed his legs and spun one of the many rings on his thick fingers.

“You Balthuman men always were so direct,” he said softly. Vincent thought he caught a tinge of menace in the tone.

“Our time is valuable,” he answered simply before finishing off his drink. “So talk.”

“Fair enough,” Silas conceded. He paused for dramatic effect. “We have the same goal, you and I.”

“We do?” Vincent snorted. “And what goal is that?” Silas didn’t share his amusement, his demeanor growing eerily calm.

“Something was taken from us by someone it didn’t belong to.” Vincent tensed imperceptibly.

“And what, exactly, do you think was taken from me?” he asked quietly.

“Something precious,” Silas answered, lifting his head to meet Vincent’s gaze. “Something irreplaceable. It’s the same thing that I lost, the same thing that I want back. And I think we can help each other regain what is rightfully ours.” Vincent watched Silas carefully for a long moment before chuckling. He pushed off the table and finally sat at his desk.

“And you think I need your help?” he mocked with a smile. “You think Vincent Balthuman needs anyone’s fucking help?”

“There’s power in numbers,” Silas said coolly. “Plus I’ve got some tempting bait.”

“Tempting bait?” Vincent repeated. “Look, Silas, if this is about saving one of your wayward whores, I’m not fucking interested in what happens to her.” Silas’s posture stiffened, Vincent having struck the right nerve.

“You may not be interested in what happens to her,” Silas hissed. “But your daughter certainly is.” The room spun in a mahogany blur and Vincent had to grip his desk to stay steady, unsure if it was the alcohol or what Silas had just said that had sent him reeling.

“What did you just say?” Vincent managed to ground out. Silas’s mouth quirked.

“Word travels fast, Vincent. Some of your men seem to have loose lips and looser allegiances.” Vincent’s knuckles turned white as he tried to control his rage, vowing to hold every one of his men to the flames until someone talked. He couldn’t have the world knowing that Poppy might be his daughter – not until she was safely in his clutches.

“So what?” Vincent challenged. “You think we can draw Poppy out of hiding by threatening some prostitute she befriended?” Silas’s face darkened.

“Something like that,” he answered simply.

“And what do you want in return? What’s your angle here?” Vincent waited impatiently for the request, knowing what it would be before the other man spoke it.

“I want us to be partners.”


	58. Fifty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend listening to Marika Hackman's cover of "I Follow Rivers" for this chapter.

**_Oh I beg you, can I follow?_ **

**_Oh I ask you, why not always?_ **

_Lykke Li, "I Follow Rivers"_

Fifty-Eight

It was the dark of midnight, dawn still hours off, as Tora and Poppy stood on the empty tarmac, her tiny hand clutched in his. He hadn’t let go of her since they arrived at the airport, and Poppy chalked the action up to his unease with the whole situation. Gyu had promised that the small jet would be safe, that the crew were trustworthy and efficient, but something still nagged at her, some unspoken, shapeless doubt. If Balthuman and his men could get their hands on every doctor in the country, what was to stop them from doing the same with the pilots, or the shopkeepers, or any number of terrorized innocents who would all suffer because of Poppy and Tora’s love?

Poppy swallowed down the thought and looked at Tora, whose eyes scanned the empty fields around them like a lion in the wild. His jaw was angular and tight, and a telltale vein had sprung up on his forehead. Poppy reached for him instinctively, trying to smooth away the worry, and he flinched at her touch.

“Sorry,” she murmured as she pulled away, but he caught her hand and brought it to his cheek, his golden gaze piercing through her.

“Don’t be,” Tora answered softly, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Touch me all ya want.” Poppy frowned at his intensity, at the hum of primal energy that radiated off of him, strong and clean as lightning. His expression was seductive and sad all at once, as if he was fighting something inside of himself, something that Poppy couldn’t see.

“Are you alright?” she whispered. He hesitated before looking away.

“I’m fine, kid,” he finally said. “I’m just ready for this to be over.”

Gyu emerged from the nearby hangar, his shoulders slumped, his expression wary as he approached. His eyes darted to the backseat of Tora’s car, where Dr. Green sat bound and unmoving, his head resting against the window.

“That him?” Gyu asked as he gestured with his chin. “Did ya kill him?”

“What?!” Tora sputtered. “Does it look like I killed him?”

“He looks dead to me,” Gyu answered with a shrug. Tora growled low in his throat.

“If he was dead, ya would know it.” Gyu said nothing more, clearly feeling the same deathly energy that Poppy was.

“Are you sure you’re OK?” she asked again. Tora grew still, the same way he grew still before a fight. She nearly gasped when he looked at her, his face desperate and torn.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he said to Gyu, but his eyes remained trained on Poppy’s, diving deep down inside of her. He was trying to tell her something, trying to strengthen some connection between them, but she couldn’t understand what it was.

“P-Poppy,” Gyu stammered. “Why don’t I show ya the inside of the jet?”

“OK,” she answered hesitantly. She made to walk towards Gyu but Tora clutched her hand tighter and spun her back towards him, crushing her in a fierce hug that knocked the air from her lungs. His hands roamed across her body, tracing her arms, her legs, the curve of her spine as it disappeared up into her hair, where his fingers tangled and scratched. His face burrowed deep into the crook of her neck, and she could hear a quake in his voice as he spoke, his breath warm on her skin.

“Thank you,” he said. Poppy thought maybe she had heard wrong, his heartbeat nearly deafening in her ear, but he said the words again and again until they became a chant. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

“Tora,” she huffed, managing to find some space between them. “What are you thanking me for?” He looked down at her like he had done so many times before, reading every minute detail of her face. A small smile played across his features, even as he continued to frown.

“For goin’ on this wild ride with me, kid,” he answered simply before bringing his lips to hers, his kiss tender as his tongue foraged, insistent but soft. He kissed her with every part of him, every fiber of hunger and longing that he could propel towards her, around her, into her, and Poppy melted easily into him, answering his powerful need. She sighed when he broke the kiss abruptly, both of them panting as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I love you, Poppy,” he breathed, his hand shifting to her belly. “I love us.”

“I love you, too, Tora.”

She pulled away reluctantly, sending Tora several glances over her shoulder as she followed Gyu onto the plane. In hindsight, she should have been more suspicious of Tora; more suspicious of his blinding, desperate adoration. But she was drunk on him still, on the feel of him on her lips, of the way his hand cradled the swell of their unborn baby. And so it was optimism that made her float towards Gyu, her brain racing with the endless possibilities for their future. _We’re going to be safe_ , Poppy thought. _We’re going to be OK_.

The jet was small but beautiful, with plush leather seats surrounding ornate wooden tables. Poppy didn’t want to know who this plane belonged to, so she only pretended to listen to Gyu quietly drone on about the features, wondering why he thought she needed to know every last detail about the stitching on the chairs or the imported gold leaf on the walls. She knew Tora would have something to say about the lavish setting, the hairs on the back of her neck straying up as she realized that he had yet to board the plane. Was he threatening the doctor one last time, telling him to keep his mouth shut? The thought made Poppy queasy and she turned from Gyu suddenly.

“Hold on!” he called after her. “Where ya goin?”

“I’m just making sure Tora doesn’t have the doctor in a headlock.” She walked back towards the exit, a knot of dread weighing heavy in her stomach. A crewmember was shutting the cabin door, pulling it closed with an airtight pop.

“Wait!” she cried. “You can’t close that yet! Tora’s not here.” The man’s eyes darted over Poppy’s head towards Gyu, both of their faces anxious. “Open the door, please,” she said, but the man ignored her, disappearing into the cockpit.

“What the heck?” Poppy twirled towards Gyu. “Gyu, tell him to open the door. We can’t leave yet.” Gyu stared for a long moment as if he was choosing his next words carefully.

“I’m sorry, Poppy,” he finally whispered. “This is what Tora wanted.” The weight in Poppy’s stomach grew unbearable, fear radiating from her center out into every limb, her fingertips tingling like stars.

“What are you talking about?!” she screamed as the engine started up, the whole plane shimmying. “What the hell is going on?!” Gyu knitted his hands together and then dropped them again.

“He wanted to keep ya safe,” he offered meekly. “You and the baby.”

Poppy knew what Gyu was saying, but her mind wouldn’t accept the truth. Tora’s words from the night before echoed in her brain: _you’ll_ be safe soon. She lunged for the door, the handle slipping in her sweat-soaked hands as she fought to pry it open. It was locked tight, her muscles straining as she wailed for someone to let her out. She flew to the nearest window and tore open the shade, her heart howling when she spotted Tora still on the tarmac, his fists clenched at his sides as he watched the plane.

“Tora!” she yelled as she pounded on the plastic, unsure if he could hear her. “Tora, please! Please don’t do this!” Tears obscured her vision but she could see his face plainly. There was no sadness there; no anger, no pity, no regret. There was nothing at all. He stared at the plane in a hollow trance and Poppy realized that he had been preparing for this moment, preparing to shut himself down.

“Goddamnit!” she screamed at him. “TORA PLEASE DON’T DO THIS! DON’T FUCKING DO THIS!” She began to kick at the walls of the plane and Gyu seized her from behind, gently wrapping his arms around her stomach.

“Let me go!” she howled. “LET ME FUCKING GO!”

She broke free of Gyu’s grasp and flung herself back at the window, hammering with the heel of her palm until it was bruised. She wasn’t sure what she was saying at this point; she only knew that she was calling Tora’s name, over and over again, begging him to let her stay. She didn’t care that it was dangerous, she didn’t care that she was a distraction – she only cared about being at Tora’s side. The plane lurched forward and Tora began to recede from her view, his body still unmoving, as if she was taking his life with her.

“TORA!” she howled, her voice catching on a sob.

She stumbled as the plane rolled and Gyu easily caught her, trying his best to soothe her shaking form. Her words bubbled into nonsense, her face wet as she collapsed into a heap, her limbs tangling with Gyu’s as he patted her back and told her that everything would be OK. She didn’t want OK, she didn’t want safe; she wanted to know that she would see Tora again, whole and real and hers.

“Tora,” she wept, her energy spent. “Please don’t do this. _Please_.”

Her vision began to narrow to a watery blur, as if she was drowning, and her consciousness faded, the plane taking her further and further away from the only thing she loved. Her anger and grief dulled and then died, Tora’s face the last thing she saw before she fell into the void. 


	59. Fifty-Nine

**_He war, he war_ **

**_He will kill for you_ **

_Cat Power, "He War"_

Fifty-Nine

Poppy woke to a dull ringing in her ears. Her head ached and her chest was tight, her whole body tensed like a rusty spring. She opened her eyes and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling, one adorned with ornate gold leaf. For a moment, she thought her own body was vibrating with wild energy, but then something around sputtered and clanged and she shot straight up, the world tilting as she moved. She was tucked into a large bed, on a plane, the engine roaring beneath her.

A plane.

Tora’s stoic face flooded her memory and she dashed out of bed, ignoring the fuzzy clouds that bloomed in her head. She clutched at the walls and managed to peel back an accordion door to find Gyu sitting quietly in the main cabin, his face pensive as he gazed out the window. He jumped to his feet when he saw her.

“Poppy!” he cried, rushing towards her. “Ya shouldn’t be up right now!” She scowled and Gyu stopped in his tracks, suddenly hesitant to help her.

“Take me back,” she seethed. “ _Right now_.” Gyu held up his hands in surrender.

“Ya know I can’t do that, Poppy.”

“Yes you fucking can!” She lurched towards him, only to be thrown off balance by the altitude and her own dizziness. She fell into the nearest chair and Gyu raced towards her, crouching at her side.

“Poppy,” he started, voice pitiful. “Poppy…Tora didn’t do this to hurt ya. He just wants ya to be safe.”

“I know what he wants,” she grumbled, her anger replaced with a begrudging resignation. She let Gyu rub her shoulder, thankful for the contact. “But he doesn’t get to make decisions for me, the stupid oaf.” Gyu swallowed hard, measuring his next words.

“Did…did Tora ever mention me?” he asked softly. Poppy shot him a confused glare.

“I honestly don’t remember,” she said, unwilling to spend her precious energy racking her brain. “Maybe. Why?” Gyu swallowed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“So ya probably don’t know that he saved my life, right?” Gyu waited for Poppy to shake her head. “We were just kids – well, I was just a kid. He was always this cool old brother, the guy that everyone wanted to be on Ares Street. The _tiger_ of Ares Street. And I was some pip squeak who thought I could keep up, thought I could hang with the tough crowd.” He laughed humorlessly, Poppy watching him closely.

“One night,” Gyu went on, “I got myself backed into a corner by some dudes in an alley. They were gonna kill me, I just knew they were. But Tora showed up, like he could sense I was in trouble. It was three of these guys against one of him, and he took each one of them down, so coldly, so easily, like he was doin’ it in his sleep. I’m pretty sure he broke every bone in one guy’s face.” Poppy blanched at the words, remembering all of the punches that Tora had thrown for her; all of the ways he had put himself between her and danger.

“My point is, that after that night, Tora made sure to let all of Ares Street know that I was protected by him, that I wasn’t to be fucked with. And every time someone tried some shit, he was there, even if he didn’t like doin’ it, even if he hated himself for havin’ to be the muscle. That’s just what he does to keep his people safe.” The cabin fell silent, both Poppy and Gyu lost in their own memories of Tora’s violence.

“He killed for me,” Poppy finally whispered, her eyes distant. “He killed men to keep me safe, and I know he didn’t want to. I know he thinks he’s a monster.”

“But do _you_ think he’s a monster?” Gyu asked softly. Poppy’s head shot up at the question, her cheeks stained with fresh tears.

“No,” she breathed. “He was only doing what he had to do.” Gyu gave her a small smile.

“Exactly,” he said.

* * *

The rest of the flight was mostly silent, Poppy appreciative of Gyu’s company but lacking the energy to be friendly. She asked him a few paltry questions, learning that they were headed somewhere in the Swiss countryside, to a small, isolated town that she had never heard of. She didn’t want to know any more than that; she only wanted to stare out the window, watching the clouds flit by as Tora’s deadly calm face seared itself into her soul. She wanted to remember him smiling, to remember him as he was back at Grandma’s cabin; she wanted to remember the smell of sweat on his skin whenever he finished chopping wood, or the murmur of his voice as he held her at night; she wanted to remember his scorching mouth, and his body buried deep insider hers. But she could only see his lifeless expression as he watched the plane roll away, his heart seemingly going with it. Poppy laughed, thinking of how she had left her own heart back on the tarmac with him. _Keep it safe for me_ , she thought bitterly. _Until I can get it back_.

“Buckle up, Pops,” Gyu told her after what felt like years. “Time to land.”

She did as she was told, trying to picture what her new home would look like. Rolling green hills jutted from her imagination and she smiled dully at the image of gingerbread houses and streams churning with dark chocolate. The people would be blonde, she guessed, with sparkling blue eyes and wide smiles, like the characters she had read about in fairytales. And everyone would hold hands and sing, their only worry about the weather and when it was going to rain.

Poppy clung to her silly fantasy as the plane jittered and shook, descending back into reality. The morning landscape was lush and green, dotted with thousands of trees and the square specks of houses. Poppy closed her eyes as she felt the wheels of the jet lower beneath her, thankful for Gyu’s silence as she patted her stomach, suddenly nauseous.

“Sorry, little baby,” she whispered. “It’ll be over soon.” The image of Tora’s large hand caressing her small belly appeared in her brain, and she held tight to it, grateful for the leverage.

The plane shuddered like an earthquake when it finally hit the ground, propelling them into a forward roll that tugged at Poppy’s throat like a claw. When it slowed, the sweat on her brow grew cold and then began to dissipate, her body calming with the stability. She peeled open one eye to see Gyu across from her, gripping his armrests.

“Not a fan of planes, either?” she asked. Gyu shook his head, his face even paler than usual.

“There’s gotta be a better way,” he rasped out. “Shouldn’t we have the technology by now?” Poppy smiled, grateful for his innocence and candor. She could see why Tora trusted him.

Poppy undid her seatbelt when the plane stopped and Gyu followed, putting his own sparse body between her and the door. She appreciated the gesture, although she was pretty sure that she outweighed him and could probably take down a man just as well as he could (which was not very well). A crewmember emerged from the cockpit and went about opening the latch, Poppy watching closely in case she ever found herself in this situation again. The panel lifted with a hiss and fresh air poured into the stale compartment, Poppy breathing in the sweet breeze.

 _Home_ , she told herself. _For now_.

Before Gyu and Poppy could move forward, heavy steps sounded on the stairs. A moment later, a single pop like a firework exploded into the cabin, the crewmember grabbing his chest and reeling back towards the wall. He slid down the window, leaving a trail of smeared red in his wake, and Poppy reached for Gyu’s arm, sure that she was screaming. Her ears rang with the sound of the gunshot and the roaring of her own heart. She felt boneless and stuck as the pilot dashed out of the cockpit and met the same fate as his cohort, a single bullet tearing a glistening hole through his forehead.

“Fuck!” was all that Gyu could manage to get out as he searched the cabin frantically, and Poppy realized in a daze that neither one of them had any sort of weapon.

The footsteps grew nearer until they stopped just shy of the door, as if the person on the other side was waiting for something. After a long second, a man the size of a small house pushed through the entrance, his gun pointed straight at Gyu’s heart. Poppy shrieked at his gruesome, scarred face, her nails digging into Gyu’s skin. She waited for the singing of another bullet, for Gyu to collapse in front of her, but nothing happened. Time slowed to a crawl and she found the courage to peek around Gyu’s slim body. The large man was smiling down at her, revealing several golden teeth. His voice hissed when he spoke.

“There ya are, little one.”


	60. Sixty

**_Remember me whenever noses start to bleed_ **

_Placebo, "Special Needs"_

Sixty

Tora didn’t feel much of anything. Not the cold on his face, nor the wind at his back. There was no fear in his heart, nor anxiety coursing through his brain as it so often did before a mission. There was nothing to him anymore but the eerie calm of the eye of a storm, unmoving and deadly. He hunched beside Goliath on the roof of the Balthuman complex, numbly wondering if he still had limbs, or if he was merely a set of dangerous actions and ideas, as if his very energy was enough to kill a man.

Tora thought maybe the answer was yes. He had prepared himself for days to watch Poppy roll away from him on that plane, endlessly reminding himself that it was all for the best. He thought he was ready; he thought he was strong. He hadn’t counted on the clench of his gut or the very real ache in his heart, the pain radiating down to his fingertips. Foolishly, he had thought about chasing after the plane, so that he could selfishly press her small body to his. It was only duty that kept him glued to his spot on the tarmac, telling himself that he would see her again when this was all over. One way or another, he would see her again.

“Earth to Tora,” Goliath hissed at his side. “Wake the fuck up.” Tora glared at his friend and gritted his teeth against the memory of Poppy, pushing her to the back of his mind. She couldn’t be inside his head – not right now, not if they were to succeed.

“Let’s just fuckin’ do this,” Tora grumbled, tensing for the cue from the others.

This wasn’t another stealth mission to kill Quincey and Vincent – this was an outright ambush, a primal slaughtering of every last Balthuman goon. Goliath had wrangled up every one of his men, and then had searched the dregs of Ares Street for anyone with a personal vendetta against Balthuman, any man who was willing to wield a weapon in the war. They would bust through the front doors of the complex with bullets and howls, and Tora and Goliath would seize the opportunity to corner the heads of the organization, taking them out one by one. Tora’s hands itched with the anticipation.

“Stay with me,” Goliath whispered, and Tora glanced at him in surprise. “If we don’t have each other’s backs, we’re both fuckin’ dead. And I fully plan on makin’ it back to Rose.” Goliath’s gold eyes glittered in the dark, his hair a ghostly blue in the moonlight. If Tora weren’t so detached, he would have thanked his friend for doing this with him, for risking his life when they both finally had something good to live for. But Tora could only nod once, hoping that Goliath would understand.

BOOM!

An explosion like thunder rattled the house, and then came the pop, pop, pop of bullets, punctuating the wild shouts of men on both sides. The Balthuman clan screamed for reinforcements, while Goliath’s men seemed to roar with glee, their voices chaotic and haunting. The front door had been breached, and Tora sucked in one final cold breath. _This is it_ , he told himself. _This is where we finish it._

“Let’s go,” Tora breathed, and began to descend down the familiar path from the roof, the same path where he had been shot so long ago. His side ached with the memory, and he shoved it away, helping Goliath down until they landed safely in the garden, their guns drawn.

Inside, the ornate hallways were empty, the commotion in the front of the complex like a distant war. The gunshots didn’t stop, ringing out through the building like firecrackers, over and over again. The shouts were alarming in their desperation and violence, and Tora was glad to be away from the mayhem, unsure if he could stomach it. He had come to realize that he wasn’t that man anymore, the one who could shut down his humanity in order to slaughter. If he was going to kill someone, he was going to do it with purpose.

“Place is fuckin’ deserted,” Goliath said, and Tora grunted his agreement. He knew the ambush tactic would work, but the home still felt oddly empty. He remembered where Vincent stationed men throughout the house, but as the two made their way through the building, they found every single post empty. Surely a few guards would have stayed behind to cover Vincent and Quincey.

“I don’t like this,” he muttered. Goliath nodded beside him, his weapon still raised and ready.

“Me, either,” he agreed. “Do we go back?”

Tora weighed the question carefully, his brain fuzzy with doubt. There could be anything waiting for them in the rooms, or maybe his paranoia was simply consuming him, turning his own mind against him. The pops kept coming from the battle out front, but they had noticeably slowed, and Tora swallowed hard at the realization. With the amount of men Balthuman usually kept on staff, the shooting should have gone on for longer. And there was no way Balthuman’s men could have annihilated every last one of Goliath’s team, not with those numbers and the element of surprise.

“No,” Tora said before he could talk himself out of it. “We keep goin’.”

Goliath gave a solemn scowl and followed Tora as they moved towards Vincent’s office, one of the paneled doors left ajar. Sweat dripped in Tora’s eyes and he became acutely aware of his own terror and stupidity, thinking he would be able to numb himself and go back to the way he had been before Poppy. But there was no way around it now: he couldn’t turn himself off like a light switch, and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t care. He was scared of what was on the other side of those doors, scared to know that he might be going to his death.

“I…” he started. “I don’t know if I can do this.” Goliath watched his friend for a long moment before taking his phone from his pocket. He typed out a quick message with one hand, and then looked back to Tora when it was sent.

“I called for backup.”

Tora knew that he should thank his friend, but he could only stare at the office door, anxious and ashamed. He had never needed help from anyone – that’s how he had learned to survive. Take care of yourself because no one else will do it for you. And so he was embarrassed by his weakness, but more than anything, he was simply relieved, relieved to think that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be where he took his final breath. He needed help, he needed care, and he needed Poppy.

Within minutes three dark figures emerged at the other end of the long hall, staying close to the walls as they checked each room they passed, their guns pointed at nothing. When finally they made it to Balthuman’s office, Tora could only give the men a cursory glance, unwilling to show them his self-doubt. They were decorated in blood splatters, their teeth shining through their red faces as they smiled.

“It was a fuckin’ massacre, boss,” one said quietly. “We’re a little disappointed that there weren’t more.” Tora noticed belatedly that the gunshots had all but stopped.

“Just check in there,” Goliath ordered with impatience, but he couldn’t deflate his men’s happy moods. They practically sauntered up to the door, one kicking it open with a heavy boot, weapon raised and itching for more action. Tora marveled at the ease and carelessness. Didn’t these men have anything to live for? To go home to? And hadn’t Tora been that cocky not long ago? That bulletproof? That invincible? 

“Nothin’,” one of the men said with disappointment before his eyes landed on the tchotchkes on the desk. “Mind if I pocket some of this gold shit?” Goliath opened his mouth to chide the man when the phone gave a shrill cry, all of the men raising their weapons in alarm. Tora’s heart pounded in his throat, his gun still raised as the others lowered theirs.

“Should I answer it?” one of the men asked Goliath as the phone continued to ring. Tora spoke up first.

“Yes,” he croaked, his voice gravelly. He couldn’t explain why he said yes – only that his instincts told him that this wasn’t a casual business call. He watched unblinking as the man took steady steps towards the phone on the desk, careful to pick up the receiver as if it might burn him.

“Hello?” he said evenly before waiting for a response. His eyes spun towards Tora as the person on the other end of the line spoke.

“Who the fuck is it?” Goliath hissed. The man held out the receiver, his face slack with confusion.

“It’s for him,” he said, gesturing towards Tora.

The Balthuman complex and all the men around him faded away. He knew they were watching him as he walked towards the phone, but he couldn’t see them. He could only see the receiver, held aloft by nothing, and the curling cord that disappeared into space. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, his mouth dry as his fingers gripped the cold metal. He couldn’t tell if he was shaking or if it was the world churning in an earthquake as he brought the phone to his ear, his own breath heavy on the line.

“Who is this?” he whispered, surprised at the threat in his voice.

“Tora,” Vincent Balthuman said from somewhere far away. “Did you really think she’d be safe with Gyu?”


	61. Sixty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm so sorry for the long delays between chapters. I've been going through a few personal things, and it's hard to find joy in writing right now. But I'm determined to keep trying, because I love this story and these characters and I'm just as anxious as you are for a resolution. 
> 
> Thanks for being patient with me.

**_The killer in me is the killer in you_ **

_Smashing Pumpkins, "Disarm"_

Sixty-One

The world froze and then shattered, every one of Tora’s deadly instincts washing over him in a flood.

“Where is she?” he hissed. Vincent chuckled on the other end of the line.

“Is that all you have to say to me, Tora? After all this time?”

“ _Where is she?_ ” Tora growled again.

“She’s safe, if that’s what you’re asking,” Vincent answered. “You think I would hurt my own flesh and blood?”

“She’s not yours…” Tora started, his temple throbbing, his hands quaking as he held the phone. Poppy had been kidnapped. Tora had done everything he could think to do – had dragged her across the city and the country and then the world, and still Vincent had found her. He didn’t know if he wanted to vomit or scream.

“She _is_ mine,” Vincent interrupted, his voice thinning to an icy line. “She’s a Balthuman. It’s in her body, in her soul. And she belongs with her family.”

“I’m her family,” Tora said, desperately trying to school his tone. Vincent loved to hear people twitch, to know that he was having an effect on them, and Tora wasn’t about to give him what he wanted. “She’ll never be like ya. She’ll never be one of ya.”

“She already is,” Vincent answered simply. “She’s more of a Balthuman than you could ever hope to be.” The comment was meant to illicit a sense of longing and jealousy in Tora, but it only fueled his savage anger. He had abandoned his naïve hopes of Vincent being his father; of being an equal to Quincey. Vincent was right: he would never be a Balthuman, and he was finally glad of it.

“This isn’t gonna work on me,” Tora murmured. “Not this time.” There was a long pause.

“Is that so?” Vincent wondered.

“I don’t give a fuck about your bloodline and I don’t give a fuck about your name. I’m gonna destroy every last one of ya with my bare hands if I have to. I’m gonna do whatever I have to do to keep Poppy safe.”

The room around Tora trickled back into view and he became aware of the men around him, each one holding their breath. They all knew that he was asking for trouble when he spoke to Vincent Balthuman that way, but Tora vibrated with a fury he couldn’t contain. His veins grew molten, his heart an ember, and he was prepared to breathe fire towards anyone who dared to challenge him. But more than his anger, Tora had Vincent’s vanity on his side: he knew the man would never hurt Poppy, not when she was half him.

“You insolent brat,” Vincent spat, all his casual charm gone. “After all I’ve done for you, after all I’ve sacrificed to make you the man you are.”

“The man I am?” Tora choked on a humorless laugh.

“I tried to make you into something worthy – I tried to help you. But you were determined to remain gutter trash. I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve been so careless, so violent, so _stupid_. Did you really think I wouldn’t have everyone in the country looking for you? Did you really think it was just the doctors I threatened?”

Tora’s mind whirled back to Dr. Green, who he had unceremoniously dropped back at his country home. His family would be scared, but the man was otherwise unhurt. Tora shook his head, remembering his confusion over Balthuman hiring doctors across the countryside to keep their eyes peeled for any sign of him or Poppy. Clans didn’t use doctors, and both Vincent and Tora knew this.

“The doctors were decoys,” Tora said softly.

“Yes the doctors were fucking decoys,” Vincent seethed. “It was the shopkeeper who tipped us off, you fool. I could hardly believe that you made it so easy for us, putting her on that plane by herself. I should have known to expect disappointment from you.” Tora let the words roll over him, cascading down his back and falling into the past. He didn’t care about the damn doctor anymore, and he certainly didn’t care about Vincent’s approval. He only cared about one thing.

“So what now?” Tora breathed. “Ya know I won’t stop until I find her.” It was a simple statement, one uttered with the confidence of fact.

“Do what you will,” Vincent said, the boredom returning to his tone. “I’m sure Quincey still wants some sort of petty Shakespearean revenge, but as far as I’m concerned, you can go back to the gutter to rot.” Tora clenched his jaw.

“That’s not gonna happen,” he warned, but Vincent remained unbothered.

“By all means, wear yourself to the bone trying to search for us. But know this, Tora: you will never, ever see Poppy again.”

* * *

Poppy woke with a start, her cheek pressed to a silken pillow that was most certainly not her own. Her neck felt heavy and her eyelids drooped as she gazed around her. She was in an opulent canopied bed, her tiny body surrounded by velvety pillows and blankets that threatened to swallow her whole. The room beyond was equally lavish, with gaudy chairs and a heavily ornamented armoire that could fill half her apartment. The only thing out of place were the cold stone floors that peaked out from beneath layered woven rugs.

“What?” was the only thing she could think to say. Her eyes settled on a full carafe on the side table and she suddenly realized how thirsty she was. It took several attempts for her to untangle herself from the bedding and reach for the glass, draining it twice before she slowed.

Fragments fluttered across her memory. As was the case with most days, Tora’s image was the first to pop into her brain, his body firm as she clung to him for comfort. A happy feeling bloomed in her stomach, directly over the spot where their child grew. But something clawed at her chest; some ache that she couldn’t place, even as it worked its way through her limbs. _Where am I?_ she wondered again. _And where’s Tora?_

 _Back on the tarmac_ , a little voice said.

And then she remembered everything.

She remembered Tora and the plane; she remembered Gyu, sweet and gentle, trying to ease her pain. She remembered landing, and being surrounded by beautiful green hills. She remembered the crew members as they fell, their blood vibrant as neon, and the big man who boarded, his gun pointed directly at her. She remembered screaming as Gyu was hit over the head; she remembered trying to run, to fight, to cling to whatever she could grab. She remembered a hand over her mouth, her teeth loosening a chunk of flesh, and the yelp that followed. And she remembered the strange smelling cloth as it was pressed to her nose, the world spinning and pitching into black.

Poppy’s eyes spun around the room again and she noticed that the two large doors had several locks between them, only they weren’t trying to keep someone out – they were trying to keep someone in. She stumbled from the bed towards the only window, little more than an arrow slot, and looked down at the drop below. The ocean churned and thrashed at the rocks hundreds of feet beneath her, frothing with a deadly promise.

She was at the edge of the world and she had nowhere to go.


	62. Sixty-Two

**_And I'm moving on_ **

**_I carry a diamond blade, I'm moving on_ **

**_To pull the fences down, and when I walk_ **

**_I carry a diamond blade, I will not serve you_ **

_Loma, "Black Willow"_

Sixty-Two

Poppy heard heavy footsteps down the hall, growing louder as they moved towards her door. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for somewhere to hide. The bed was too low and the armoire too shallow; and besides, whoever was coming knew that she was in there, that she couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to jump out the window. So she summoned her courage instead, her trembling head held high as jangling keys slowly undid the series of locks. She tried to mimic all the powerful women she knew: Erdene, Sarah, Rose, and her mother most of all.

“They won’t take me, too,” Poppy quietly promised her mom. “I won’t let them.”

But then the door swung open, and all of Poppy’s bravado left her in a rush. The beast of a man who had boarded the plane stood before her, leering as he gave her a quick onceover. He took a step forward and Poppy retreated to the furthest wall, clutching one of the tapestries.

“ _Don’t touch me_ ,” she hissed, the venom tempered by the warble in her voice. The man stopped, tilting his head as if he didn’t understand her language. He studied her like a bug under a magnifying glass.

“We can do this one of two ways, princess,” he finally said, two fat fingers raised in the air. “You can shut up and do what you’re told, or I can drag you down the hall by that pretty hair of yours.”

Poppy flinched despite the man’s smile. He loomed over her like an ancient tree, solid and deadly, and she knew that even with all of her determination and might, she was no match for pure brute strength. _Be smart, Poppy_ , she thought. _Getting yourself hurt won’t make things any easier_. She slowly uncurled her fists from the fabric and inched towards the man, his eyes glinting with a sickening pride as she stopped a few inches short of his long reach.

“Good girl,” he murmured. Poppy nearly bared her teeth; she was no one’s good girl except for Tora.

Tora.

His face flashed in her mind and she nearly sobbed with frustration. Did he know that she had been taken? That she and Gyu had never made it to their final destination? Was he looking for her, or did he even know _to_ look? She tried to push the panic back down beneath the surface, but it bobbed like a buoy, constantly begging for her attention. Maybe Tora knew about this place, and maybe he was already on his way to save her. Or maybe he had been captured, too, and they were both waiting on the other.

“Time to take a walk, princess,” the man’s voice boomed, and he stepped aside to let her lead, trailing dangerously close behind, his breath tickling her neck. Poppy stepped cautiously into the dark passage, which was made of the same grey stone as her room. There were torches at even intervals on the walls, throwing out flickering fingers of orange light, and she could hear the angry waves crashing somewhere outside. They truly were in a castle, one as remote and primitive as a lighthouse.

The man rested one meaty paw on Poppy’s shoulder, squeezing gently, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to shrug him off. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a white bandage covering his skin, and she allowed herself a small triumphant smirk, remembering how it felt to dig her teeth into his flesh. She would do it again if she had to; she would do anything to get back to Tora.

She let the man steer her down one hall and then another, until she was dizzy from the twists and turns. She wondered if maybe he was simply playing tricks on her when finally they came to a set of grand wooden doors, an elaborate scene of mermaids and sailors carved into the grain. _No, not mermaids_ , Poppy told herself. _Sirens_. The man reached above her head to push the doors open and then ushered her inside.

The room was large and cavernous, with a giant hearth dwarfing the long table in front of it. A fire crackled and glowed, helping to illuminate the intricate wall hangings and furniture, a cozy sitting area separated from the rest of the room by a gargantuan sofa. The flames of the sconces and candelabras danced in the breeze from the open windows, where the roar and foam of the waves continued unabated, lashing against the rocks below. Poppy would have found the setting magical, like a scene out of _Beauty & the Beast_, had it not been for the men sitting at the table, their eyes piercing and fierce.

“ _You_ ,” she spat.

Vincent Balthuman rose from his chair, a smug grin on his face. Quincey stayed sitting in his spot beside his father, darting an embarrassed glance at Poppy before quickly looking away again. He hunched his shoulders and studied his fingernails as if he were bored, but Poppy knew that he was uncomfortable, storing that fact in her brain should she need it later. Across from Quincey sat a man that Poppy didn’t know, decked in pristine white from his hair down to his polished leather shoes. He smiled at Poppy, revealing several gold teeth.

“Poppy,” Vincent said warmly as he approached, his arms held open. She realized that he meant to hug her, and she shrank away from him, horrified and sick. Vincent stilled, his eyes growing glassy, and she was sure that he was going to reach out and strike her. Instead, he let his arms drop.

“Who did that?” he asked the man behind her, his gaze never leaving her face as he pointed towards Poppy with his chin. She reached up absently and pressed her fingers to her cheekbone, wincing when she realized that it was tender and bruised.

“It was an accident,” the giant man said with a shrug. “She’s a feisty little thing.”

Vincent’s eyes flared. In one fluid motion, he drew a gun from his waistband and leveled it at the man’s head, sending a bullet straight through his forehead with a loud POP! Poppy screamed as his blood splattered her back, her hands pressed firmly over her ears as the ground vibrated from the body crumbling to the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the moment away, but when she opened them again, Vincent was staring at her, the weapon now limp in his hand.

“No one hurts a Balthuman,” he said softly. “ _Ever_.”


	63. Sixty-Three

**_I've been watchin' all of my past repeatin'_ **

_Angel Olsen, "All Mirrors"_

Sixty-Three

Quincey gawked at Vincent, the gunshot still ringing in his ears. He knew his father was heartless, had always _been_ heartless, but working so closely with him over these past few months had revealed a darker, deadlier side to Vincent Balthuman than Quincey could ever imagine. He wanted to return to his blissful ignorance; to his luxurious apartment and lavish lifestyle, all funded by daddy’s coffers, when he could ignore most of the violence and bloodshed. He longed for that earlier time, before facets of his father had started to reveal themselves in him, culminating in the violent attack on Poppy. Quincey’s eyes turned to her ashen face, which was contorted in both anger and fear. Part of him was suddenly anxious to apologize.

“A little warning next time, Balthuman,” the man sitting across from Quincey said, his expression bored.

Silas. This was his castle, his turf, and his men who were dragging away the big brute’s corpse, pulling the grand doors closed behind them. Quincey couldn’t understand why his father had agreed to work with this lowlife, especially when it meant taking them away from Balthuman territory. Vincent liked the security of his little empire, and yet they had trekked to this medieval artifact on the edge of the earth instead of taking Poppy back to Narin City. Why?

“Apologies,” Vincent said, his attention still fixed on Poppy. He took a step closer and she cowered away from him, flinching as he reached for a bloody strand of her hair.

“Don’t touch me,” Poppy warned, but she didn’t move away. Her small fists trembled as she held them to her chest.

“You look so much like your mother,” he murmured softly, transfixed as he leaned in. Silas cleared his throat from across the room and Vincent shook himself, drawing away and dropping his hand.

“Perhaps the young lady would like to sit,” Silas offered. Quincey watched Poppy’s body shift and change. She no longer shrank away from Vincent, but instead pulled herself to her full height.

“Would you care to sit?” Vincent asked her pleasantly, his arm outstretched like a butler. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Poppy’s glare was ferocious, made all the more sinister by the red dots decorating her face. “We should get you a towel for that blood.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” she said through clenched teeth. Quincey startled at the venom in her tone, but Vincent remained unfazed.

“I know this must seem like a lot to take in,” Vincent began before Poppy interrupted.

“Fuck you!” she shouted. “I don’t want your food or your towel or anything to do with you!” Vincent paused, tucking his chin to his chest before he spoke again.

“Now sweetheart…”

“Don’t you sweetheart me, you pig!” she screamed, her cheeks flushed. Quincey quietly marveled at her ferocity, almost enjoying her verbal barrage. “I’m not your fucking daughter and I never will be!” Vincent’s expression soured just a fraction, but Quincey knew that his father was boiling on the inside. No one dared talk to him that way.

“Poppy,” Vincent started, his voice slightly strained. “You’re upset, and I don’t blame you. After what Quincey did to you…” A fine sweat broke out over Quincey’s brow, the fire in the hearth suddenly stifling.

“What Quincey did?!” she shrieked. “What about what you’ve done?! Tora almost died because of you and your men!” Tora’s name hung suspended in the room for one long second.

“A Balthuman does not belong with street trash,” Vincent said, his tone low and deadly, but that only seemed to spurn Poppy’s anger forward.

“I’m not a fucking Balthuman,” she hissed. “If it were up to me, you would all rot in Hell.”

Quincey rose to his feet as his father lunged towards Poppy, his fingers wrapping around her arm like a vise. He pulled her to him violently, and Quincey forced himself to turn away, almost overcome by the need to help her. How had he been so vicious before? How had he watched his men grab and hurt her? How had he let that savage crawl atop her while his best friend begged him to stop? Quincey wondered if maybe Balthuman blood was a curse, one that possessed him like a demon, blackening his heart and mind.

“Listen to me, little girl,” Vincent whispered, his nose flush with Poppy’s. “I’m willing to give you some consideration considering the circumstances. But understand that these outbursts will not be tolerated in the future.”

“Don’t act like you’re my father,” Poppy answered, her eyes narrowed. “You’re _nothing_ to me.” Vincent growled low in his throat, his grip tightening around Poppy’s arm. Quincey knew his father well enough to know that Vincent Balthuman could be a villain or a madman, a devil or a fiend, but he would never allow someone to call him _nothing_.

“A quick test will take care of that for us.” Vincent smiled as Poppy’s face fell. “Now are you going to let us draw your blood, or am I going to have to smack it out of you?” Poppy studied him for a long moment.

“I thought no one hurt a Balthuman,” she said, feeding his words back to him. “ _Ever_.”

Vincent roared, and Quincey watched in horror as his father drew his free hand back, ready to connect his palm to Poppy’s cheek. He looked to Silas, but the man was simply grinning with a sick fascination, waiting for the slap. Quincey stepped forward without a second thought, but was stopped as the room’s doors burst open and a man carried in a frail figure, dropping her to the rug with a thud. Vincent turned to stare as the women on the floor groaned in pain, and a gasp slipped from Poppy’s lips.

“Rose!” she cried.


	64. Sixty-Four

**_I won't go, I won't sleep_ **

**_I can't breathe_ **

**_Until you're resting here with me_ **

**_And I won't leave, and I can't hide_ **

**_I cannot be until you're resting here with me_ **

Dido, "Here With Me"

Sixty-Four

Tora paced through the living room, back and forth like a tiger in a cage. Goliath sat close by, shoulders hunched, his eyes following the anxious prowl. There were heavy circles under both men’s eyes.

“Would ya fuckin’ stop?” Goliath muttered. “You’re makin’ me fuckin’ nervous.”

“Good,” Tora growled as he kept moving. “Ya should be, because if this guy doesn’t know shit, I’m gonna tear both of ya to shreds.”

Goliath had stopped wincing at Tora’s hollow threats a few days ago, knowing that angry words and scowls were all his friend could muster since learning of Poppy’s kidnapping. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat; he drifted endlessly through Goliath’s apartment like a ghost, only stopping to occasionally clean his weapons. Then he would start back up again, his hair wild, a constant veil of sweat across his forehead.

“He’ll know,” Goliath said, but his voice rasped with exhaustion and doubt.

Goliath seemed to have more connections than anyone in the city – it was his specialty. So when a friend of a friend had handed him a small business card with a phone number and the name Io, Goliath had held onto it, waiting for the right moment and the right time. _He knows everything_ , his clan members told him. _He can find the needle in the haystack_.

“Ya don’t know that,” Tora answered, shaking his head defiantly. “Ya’ve never even met the guy. For all we know, he could be workin’ for Balthuman.” Goliath grimaced at the possibility, especially because he had worried about the same thing.

“Well what choice do we have?” he asked. “They took out the crew, Gyu’s probably dead – ”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Tora hissed, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Gyu is _not_ fuckin’ dead.” Goliath winced, knowing that part of Tora’s torment rested with Gyu’s still unknown fate. Tora wouldn’t accept that he wasn’t responsible for everything that had happened, not now and maybe not ever.

“We’ll find them,” Goliath said softly. “This guy knows everything about everyone. I don’t know his price, but we’ll pay it, and we’ll bring Poppy and Gyu home.” The two men stared at each other for a long moment before Tora gave a single nod. Goliath knew it was all the thanks his friend could muster.

A delicate knock came at the door, almost too quiet to hear over the city sounds below, but Tora quickly sprang back to life. He drew his gun from his waistband and headed towards the sound, Goliath beating him to the handle with a heavy sigh.

“Just sit down, would ya?” he spat as he checked the peephole and began to undo the series of sturdy locks.

Something rumbled in Tora’s throat, primal and angry, but he stepped away from the door, perching awkwardly on the edge of the sofa. His muscles bulged as he crossed his arms, his eyes fixed on the entrance. His frown faltered towards the frail old man who stepped inside, a serene smile on his face. His head was shiny and bald, and a red dragon tattoo snaked around his thin neck.

“Goliath?” the man asked. “I trust you are well.”

“I’ve been better,” Goliath mumbled as he redid the locks. He gestured towards the sofa with his head. “This is Tora.”

“I know who he is,” the man answered, making no move to come forward. His expression remained placid and pleased. “The Tiger of Ares Street.” Tora scowled and drew himself to his full height, the tiny man barely reaching past his shoulder.

“Ya can call me whatever the fuck ya want,” Tora rumbled, “so long as ya help me.”

Goliath made quick work of patting down Io’s small frame, his brows knit tightly together as he felt the poke of bones through the old man’s clothes. His body seemed emaciated, but his cheeks remained full as he continued to smile, arms spread at his sides. Goliath grunted his approval and ushered his guest further inside, both sitting as Tora loomed over them.

“Goliath tells me that you need something from me,” Io said smoothly, hands clasped in his lap. “Information about someone’s whereabouts.” 

“Ya know I fuckin’ do,” Tora replied, his body vibrating with tension. His words can lightning fast. “I need to know where Vincent Balthuman is. I need to know where he’d take someone to hide them, I need to know how to get there, and I need to know right fuckin’ now.” Io watched him with unblinking eyes.

“He has someone who is important to you?” the man finally asked. “Someone you love?” Tora stared at him, unsure of what to make of the question.

“Does it fuckin’ matter?” he asked. The old man inclined his head.

“It matters a great deal. What you ask of me is difficult, but getting there will be even harder. You must care an awful lot for this person if you’re going to survive.” Tora clenched his jaw, unfazed by the warning.

“I’ll go to the ends of the earth if I have to,” he said quietly. The smile returned to Io’s face.

“Good, because that is exactly where you must go.”

Before Tora could ask what he meant, a wild pounding came at the door, sending a jolt through all three men. Io stayed deathly still as Tora and Goliath drew their weapons and slid towards the entrance, stopping only when they heard the shrill desperation of the voice on the other side.

“Goliath!” the voice called. “Goliath it’s me!”

“Rose,” Goliath murmured as he raced forward to undo the locks, his hands slipping on the metal. She sounded breathless and pained, and when he finally wrenched open the door, her face was frantic with fear. She nearly collapsed into his arms, whimpering his name.

“He has her, he has her,” she said over and over again, her fingers digging into Goliath’s shoulders. “He’s going to kill her.”

“Slow down,” Goliath begged, his hands instinctively roaming her body to check for injuries. “Just slow down. Are ya hurt? What’s goin’ on? Who has who?” Rose took a deep breath, every inch of her shaking.

“My sister,” she sobbed. “Balthuman has my sister.”


	65. Announcement

**Hello my dear, sweet readers!**

**I wanted to provide everyone with a little update since I know my chapters have been highly sporadic lately. I've really been trying to push myself to meet some imaginary timeline for _Tick of the Clock_ and have unfortunately turned writing into a task rather than a joy. After talking to some friends, I've decided to take a brief hiatus. I'm finishing up grad school in December and once that's over, I'm hoping I'll have more creative energy to spare for Tora and Poppy. Plus I have a few original ideas that I'd like to start on, and have even floated around the idea of making my own Patreon. **

**I want to stress that I am _not_ abandoning this story. I fully intend on seeing it through to the end, especially because we are turning the final corner. All the more reason for me to take a break and come back fresh! You all have been so wonderfully supportive and encouraging and I want to give you the best ending that I possibly can. Seriously, you guys are amazing - it's still hard for me to process the level of love I've received for my writing, and I would have given up long ago if not for all of you. **

**If the mood strikes, I will certainly come back earlier. But for now, let's say that we'll see each other in January?**


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